


show me how to hold you (don't let me waste you)

by bravestyles



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cancer, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, Nurse Louis, Original Character(s), Sick Character, as in not louis or harry, harry and gemma have a kid sister
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:20:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 30,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23473111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bravestyles/pseuds/bravestyles
Summary: Harry's sister is being treated for cancer at a hospital and Louis is one of her nurses. After she dies, Harry looks to Louis to help him figure everything out.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 25
Kudos: 103





	show me how to hold you (don't let me waste you)

**Author's Note:**

> title: pulse by IDER
> 
> i hope you enjoy :) i started this fic months ago and have finally got around to finishing it.

It's deeply unsettling watching a child know their way around a hospital. 

She's young -- probably couldn't count to one-hundred without some trouble if you asked her to -- yet she knows that the hallway to the left takes you to the room her sister’s in, and the hallway to the right takes you to the vending machines, and that the third door on the left is the guest bathroom. She shouldn't have the meal times memorized, or know where all the digital clocks are because she can't read the analog ones yet, or have the shifts of her favorite nurses nearly memorized. She shouldn't even  _ have _ favorite nurses. 

To make things worse, she's adapting to the  _ oncology _ unit. 

At least she can't say the word oncology. She always struggles with the middle part of it; on- _ cole _ -ogy.

Louis watches her skip around the floor for probably too much of his shift. It's hard not to be distracted by her; she shouldn't have to be here, let alone be by herself. Someone has to look after her, and her sister is usually too sick to get out of bed. So, the nurses in the unit try their best. She's made plenty of friends. Liam and Zayn adore her like mad, and they give her a popsicle every time they see her, just like Louis does. 

They always seem to forget that her favorite flavor is grape, though. Louis doesn't forget. 

-

Her name is Missy Elizabeth Styles, she's five years old, her favorite color is orange, her sister is being treated for ovarian cancer, and do you know where the bathroom is?

That's how she introduced herself to Louis, in that order and in exactly one breath. Her eyes were a sharp dark brown, matching her dark brown curls, and she was shifting on her feet like she  _ really _ needed to know where the bathroom was, so Louis blinked back his shock and led her to the bathroom.

"Thank you," she said, grinning up at him. Louis smiled at her and tapped her shoulder before going back to his job. It'd been the first time he ever saw her around, so he wasn't exactly expecting to see her again. 

Except he did, about three minutes later, when she came walking up to him with a smile. She's always smiling. "Can I have a popsicle?" she asked sweetly. 

Louis nodded, and before he could even ask what kind, she was asking for the purple one.

"Alright, I can do that for you," Louis told her. "I'll grab it in a second, okay?"

"Okay," she said easily enough. "I'll be in room 313 with my sister. She's twenty-two." 

Room 313 is not one of the rooms he's meant to look after that evening, but he does it anyway. 

-

That was three months ago, and Gemma is still awfully sick. The cancer just won't let her go. It wants her ovaries, and then it wants her lymph nodes, and now it's going after her liver, and Louis wishes he could say that this type of deterioration wasn't common, but it is. It'll take and take and take until there's nothing left to give. He's just praying, for Missy's sake, that she doesn't have to give too much more. 

He talks to Missy a lot. Like,  _ a lot _ . He knows that she used to take ballet but stopped after her mum died -- ovarian cancer that spread to her pancreas -- and that Gemma is the one that looks after her and has been since she was three. He knows that Gemma was at the end of her degree in business when she got sick and she quit school before she completed her degree. He knows that her favorite animal is a squirrel, that she only likes to read adventure books, that she likes to wear stripes, that they have a cat at home named Evie who is being taken care of by an Irish bloke named Niall. 

Missy tells him all this and more, usually when he's working the front desk, so it's incredibly surprising to learn that she has an older brother, too. 

Liam and he share a look of shock when Missy comes rushing up to the front desk and points over at a tall, pale boy who's on the phone a few feet away from them, speaking too quietly for them to hear, and calls him her brother. 

"His name’s Harry, and he's twenty, and he's been living in America." She grins up at them and puts her arm back down to her side. "Oh, and he likes to give me piggy back rides. He never says I'm too old. Gemma says I'm too old to do that now, but -- oh, and he likes to sing. And write. And read. He's going to be a journalist. He wants to work for a fashion magazine. Oh, and -- "

She's interrupted by a loud, tired sigh following a, "Come on, Missy. They're trying to work. I told you not to leave my side."

Missy looks up at Harry. He looks paler closer up than he did from far away, and Louis gets the suspicion that he's not normally so light. He looks exhausted and overwhelmed, the dark circles under his eyes and his bitten red lip only adding to it.

"Gemma says I can go wherever I want," she tells him, her smile not dimming. 

Harry huffs out a halfhearted laugh. "Yeah, well, Gemma doesn't realize how good you are at getting lost."

"I won't get lost," she promises. "And these are my _friends._ " She points at Liam and Louis with a serious look on her face, like it's obvious. "He's Liam, and he works here on nights during the weekdays. He's only here right now because Jade, my other friend, is sick and he's covering her shift." She pauses. "Not sick like Gemma though. And this is Louis. He works a lot, and his schedule changes a lot, but he's usually here. And they give me popsicles a lot. But Liam told me last week I probably shouldn't be eating so many."

Harry looks at them warily, his hand coming out to rest on Missy's shoulder protectively. He's probably wondering why the fuck his little five-year-old sister knows so much about two grown men that give her popsicles, and honestly, Louis can't blame him for looking so apprehensive. 

"She hangs around here a lot," Louis tells him, smiling gently. He can't help but take pity on Harry for how rough he looks. When he first heard the word brother, and later found out that said brother lived in America instead of here, being with his ill sister, he immediately thought that Harry was some shit brother who didn't care. But this person before him seems to care. A lot. 

"She's very social with everyone here," Liam continues, nodding. "She's quite liked, too. Made plenty of friends."

Harry nods and looks down at his sister. They have the same hair, only Harry's reaches his shoulders while Missy's goes down a bit farther. His eyes are a bright green, though, contrasting Missy's and Gemma's dark brown. He looks back up at Louis and sighs quietly. "Alright, well. Thank you for looking after her, then. I didn't realize she was just. . . roaming the halls by herself all this time."

"I stay on the oncology floor," she tells him, mispronouncing the word like always. "Just in case Gemma gets lonely."

Harry looks like he's been punched in the gut, and he rubs a hand over his face before grabbing her hand and giving them one last smile as they turn back to the hallway Harry was previously standing in. They sit down at the chairs, and immediately, Harry puts his head in his hands. 

Missy scoots closer and sets her head on his shoulder.

-

Harry's a wreck.

Louis doesn't know him at all, but he's entirely comfortable with calling him that by the end of his twelve hour shift. He looks antsy and distraught the entire time, and he only gives genuine smiles to Missy, but even those are small. More than a few times, he's gotten up to ask one of the wandering nurses or doctors a question about Gemma's condition, and every time he's sat back down next to Missy, who has stayed in place next to her brother for most of the day, he looks a bit more broken. 

"Is she supposed to be so tired?" was the question Harry had asked him a few hours ago. He had looked so, so beaten up, and Louis was just glad that they got Gemma's permission to tell him her medical information earlier in the night. When Liam had told him that he can't disclose personal information, Harry had looked like he might faint. 

Harry licked his lips nervously. "I just feel like -- she's so tired. Is that normal?"

"She's still recovering from her surgery from a few days ago," Louis replied, doing his best to sound soothing. "She's usually a bit more awake. Just give her a few days, and she'll be back to normal."

Harry's shoulders dropped. "But she's so tired. . ." He blinked a few times before retreating back to his seat. Louis wonders if Harry’s not spending too much time in his sister’s room because he’s trying to let her sleep without disturbances, or if it’s too hard on him. 

During the last five minutes of Louis' shift, Harry stands again. He's hardly sat still all day. He anxiously runs his hands over his thighs before he walks up to the front desk where Louis and Perrie are. Harry looks behind him worriedly twice, even though Missy's been with her sister for the last hour or so. 

"Hey, do you know where I can get a coffee?" he asks, sounding every bit stressed as he looks. Louis wishes he would relax a little, just a little. He's been so tense and anxious all day, and for the last half hour, Perrie kept saying she was going to go over there and talk to him to make sure he was okay. 

"The cafeteria has some. It's the same place Missy took you earlier."

She had told Louis that they were leaving and where they were going, and when they came back, she told them what they had to eat. She had some pasta and juice. Harry didn't eat anything. 

Harry bites down on his bottom lip harshly as he shoves his hands in the pocket of his sweatshirt. "That's -- I don't remember where that was." He looks like he might cry. 

"If you go down that hallway, there's some elevators. Go down to floor three, and then on your right, there's. . . " He trails off when he sees that Harry's looking at him like he got lost after the second word. Harry looks on the verge of tears, and Louis really, really doesn't want him to cry, so he gives him a reassuring smile and nods at him. "I'll just come with you, would that be alright?"

Harry's face falls. "You don't have to do that. I can find it. I just -- do you say the second floor?"

"Let me come with you," Louis says softly. 

Perrie rolls over to him on her chair and gives Harry a bright smile. "Seriously, mate, you'll get lost in, like, two seconds. I still do it, and I've been working here for years. Just let Louis take you down. It's his job, and besides, he's been super grouchy for the last twenty minutes, so some caffeine will probably do him some good."

Harry still looks beyond overwhelmed, but he manages to give Perrie a slightly hysteric smile and nods and Louis, so he takes it as a win. 

Louis gets the sense that Harry's a private person, or at the very least is feeling insanely vulnerable right now, so he waits to say anything until they get to the elevator. It's just the two of them, so Louis decides it's probably the best time to try and comfort Harry. 

"How familiar are you with all of this?" he asks, motioning around. "Like, with your sister's illness. Because if you need someone to sit down with you and explain it all to you, we can do that."

Harry shakes his head and looks down at the ground. "Our mum had it. Few years ago. I know the gist."

"Okay," Louis says quietly. He already knew that from Missy. "So then you'll probably know that there are resources for you if you need help dealing with all of this. It's okay if you do; plenty of people seek counselling when they're in your position. And we have a chapel on the first floor, if you're into that. . . If you want to be alone, I can tell you that it’s normally empty really early in the morning."

Harry shakes his head again. "It's not that. It’s not -- it’s just -- she didn't tell me," he whispers, voice crackling and painfully raw. He takes his hands out of his pockets so he can cross his arms over his chest, hugging himself. "I had no idea she was even sick, and then two weeks ago she called me, and just -- ‘Oh, I have ovarian cancer, same cancer that killed our mum, and they're pretty sure it's going to kill me too because it's gone to my liver, can you make it to my surgery?’" He takes a deep, shaky breath. "I was in America. I'm at university, I -- finals are coming up, so I had to try and take them all early to be here, and I -- " He laughs hoarsely. "Didn't do great on a few of them. Did quite awful, honestly, and now I have to retake a class next semester because of it, but I don't even know if I can go back next semester, because if Gemma -- if she dies, I'm going to have to look after Missy, and I don't -- " He closes his mouth and clenches his jaw, tight. He looks up at the ceiling, his eyes watery and bloodshot.

Louis clears his throat quietly. He can't imagine what he's going through, and he feels kind of bad for trapping him in an elevator and forcing him to talk about his feelings. "When's the last time you slept?" he asks, gentle. 

Harry laughs. He wipes at his eyes. "Two days ago, I think? Only for a couple of hours."

"If you get some rest, you'll probably feel a lot better."

Harry scoffs. "Yeah?" he asks, turning to look at Louis. He looks irritated. "Then why is it that resting is all that Gemma seems to be capable of, and she still feels like crap?"

The elevator opens, and Louis' relieved. The tension here is getting to be too much, and he doesn't have a good answer to Harry's last question. 

They walk out together, and Louis leads him to the cafeteria. Harry orders his coffee and gets it for free because he's with an employee, and they find a quiet area to sit at. Louis probably should go clock out, but he gets the feeling that Harry's so achingly alone that even Louis' comfort will help subdue some of his pain, so he stays. 

"It's hereditary," Harry whispers after a few minutes of silence. He clears his throat when his voice comes out croaky and takes another sip of his coffee. "The type of cancer Gemma has. So Missy might get it, too. And if I have kids, daughters, they might, too. . ." He rubs a hand over his forehead. It comes away shaking. 

"Early testing is -- "

"Gemma's been getting her tests done since she was nineteen, when we first found out our mum had cancer. And now she's dying."

Louis presses his lips together tightly. He doesn't know what to say to that, either. 

Harry rests his head against his hand, his elbow on the table. "You haven't corrected me once about saying that. That she's dying. One of the nurses earlier told me that I shouldn't say that, and that that's not necessarily true, but you haven't corrected me."

"Because I don't want to sound preach-y," Louis mumbles, knowing how annoying that can be. He sees it on patients' faces all the time. "And I'm going to be honest when I say that I don't track Gemma's case too carefully, so I don't know her prognosis. It's a bit too close for me, with Missy and all, so I can only imagine how you feel."

It's not entirely true. He sees Gemma regularly enough to know that she's doing poorly, and that her doctors are worried that chemo isn't going to do much of anything anymore. It's his job to know about his patients, so of course he knows the gist, but he can't tell Harry that he wouldn't feel comfortable promising Gemma another month. 

He's pretty sure Gemma's got that feeling, too, and that's why she finally told Harry. 

Harry lifts the coffee to his mouth and takes a long sip. As he hand comes back down to rest on the table, Louis catches sight of the tiny cross tattooed on his hand, and then when he glances up, he sees a cross necklace dangling from Harry's neck.

"I can show you to the chapel, if you'd like. If you think it'd help." Harry looks confused, so Louis backtracks. "It's just -- the cross. I'm not trying to overstep."

Harry's hand goes to fumble with his necklace as he shrugs. "I'm not, like, super religious. I. . . believe in some sort of god, but that's about as far as I go with it." He motions to the tattoo on his hand jerkily. "I got that when my mum was first diagnosed. Thought that if I started praying, she might be saved, but." His lips twist in a smile, and it looks wrong. "We all know how that one worked out."

"I'm sorry. For your loss, I mean."

Louis' not entirely sure why he wants Harry to be okay so badly, but he can't help it. He just seems so good. So innocent. Louis desperately wants to help him stay that way. He doesn't want Harry becoming jaded. 

"Thanks, I guess, but it's been a while."

Louis shrugs lightly. "It hasn't been too long. I mean, unless Missy isn't your mum's. . . "

"No, she's hers." Harry sits back against his seat and sighs quietly. He looks so bloody tired. "I guess it hasn't been that long, but. I don't know."

Louis just nods. They sit in a mostly-comfortable silence for a few more minutes before Harry decides he needs to get back to his sisters. Louis shows him the way back before clocking out, and on his way home, he can't stop thinking about Harry or Missy or Gemma, and he hates it a little. 

He knows better than to get emotionally involved with patients. Talking to Missy seemed innocent enough, though, and she wouldn't exactly have it any other way. Harry, though. . . that seems a whole lot different than keeping a lonely kid company at a hospital. 

-

A week goes by, and Harry rarely leaves the hospital. So now they've got two Styleses hanging around the hospital all the time, and it's incredibly difficult to understand why they all find him just as endearing as they do Missy. Harry doesn't talk to them all at much, but all of the staff in the oncology ward want him to be okay, want to see him smile a smile that doesn't look seconds away from shattering. 

Harry's sitting in Gemma's room when Louis goes in there during his rounds. She's not in his section tonight, but her call button went off and he had time to spare, so he came to see what was the matter. 

Gemma looks sickly. Her frame is frail, her face is too pale, and her eyes are barely open. Harry's looking at her like she's the most beautiful creature in the world, like she's the last of her kind and he's the one that is entrusted with protecting her at all cost. 

"Can she have another blanket?" Harry asks softly. He's holding his sister's hand in his, even though she's not holding his back. "She's cold."

"Alright, I can grab her one." He turns to Gemma and smiles gently at her, even though he's not sure how much she's actually seeing behind those half-open eyes. "How are you feeling, Gemma? Just cold?"

She takes a full minute to respond. It makes Louis wince when she finally does; that's not a good sign. 

"I told him not to bother you lot," she whispers, her voice scratchy. There's water next to her bedside, but he'll pour her another glass just in case. "I'm fine."

"You're cold," Harry argues. "They can get you a blanket. It's no bother."

Louis nods. "Really, it's not. I'll be right back with it, alright? Do you need anything else?"

Again, her response is delayed. "Get Miss a popsicle, would you? She won't shut up about those bloody popsicles. . ." She's smiling -- well, kind of. It looks like she would be smiling, if she could muster it. 

"Where is that little terror, anyway?" Louis asks, directing his question at Harry, who is watching Gemma like she's an unsteady stack of cards. 

"On the phone with our grandparents," Harry answers. He looks from Gemma to Louis before standing, and Gemma frowns, tugging at his arm as best she can. "Hey, hey, I'll be right back," he whispers to her immediately, reaching down to brush his fingers through her thin hair. "I was just going to have Louis direct me to the vending machines again. You know how I am with directions."

"Bloody terrible," she croaks, and Harry gives her a laugh, even though it's hollow and he has to turn his head from her so she can't see the tears in his eyes. 

Louis nods at him, getting the message, and steps out into the hallway with Harry in tow. He walks to the kitchen for Missy's popsicle, and Harry follows, looking heartbroken. 

As Louis' searching through the opened box for a purple popsicle, Harry comes closer and asks, "So when can we get her back on chemo?"

Louis glances at him briefly before going back to the box. "I'm not sure. It depends on how soon her body can handle it. Her doctors are talking with you, right?"

"I suppose," Harry murmurs, looking over Louis' head at something else. He's probably not supposed to be in here, but nobody's going to care. "I'm just worried they're trying to make the outcome look brighter than it actually is."

"Dr. Malik is our best oncologist here. I assure you, he's not trying to steer you in the wrong direction."

Harry nods just as Louis finally finds a purple popsicle. He plucks it from the box and puts the rest back in the freezer before turning around. Harry follows closely. 

"With my mum," Harry starts. "Chemo bought her a few months. It was -- it was really bad by the time we caught it -- it was too late to do much good -- but chemo bought her some time. I just feel like Gemma should be being treated with it. I mean, when she's strong enough to, obviously, but. . . " He trails off, probably unsure of what he means, either. 

Louis turns the corner and stops before they reach Gemma's room. He's not sure exactly where Missy is, and he doesn't want her overhearing anything if she is in Gemma's room. "I understand it's habit," Louis says, trying to sound sympathetic, "but it's probably best you don't compare your sister's cancer with your mum's. I don't know about your mother's illness, but I'm sure things are a little different with Gemma's, and I don't want you thinking that just because something worked for your mum, or didn't work for her, that it'll be that way for Gemma, too."

"I sure hope they're different," Harry murmurs nervously, and right, their mum died. Of course Harry's trying not to think about it the same way, something that's probably too hard to do. 

Louis nods at him once. "Right." He hands Harry the popsicle, which Harry accepts, and gives him a brief smile. "Give that to Missy for me, alright? I'll be back with a blanket and some water for Gemma."

Harry nods and goes to his sister's room, the door clicking shut behind him. Louis comes back a few minutes later with a blanket and water for Gemma, and when he does, Missy is crying in Harry's lap, her hand wrapped weakly around the popsicle. 

"I don't  _ want  _ to live with them," she cries, just as Louis walks in. Neither Missy or Gemma acknowledge Louis' presence, but Harry shoots him an appreciative glance. 

"You probably won't have to, sweetie," Harry whispers to her, stroking his fingers through her hair gently. "I told you, I'll be with you in England, too. If it comes to that. They just want you to know you have a home there if you need it."

Louis desperately wants to hear what Missy's going to respond to that, but he's already settled the blanket over Gemma and there's no other reason he should be here. He's not going to snoop on their conversation just because he feels a little attached; he's not that shit of a person. 

So he leaves the room after giving Harry a small wave, leaving the family to be broken in private.

-

Harry stops Louis just after his shift ends. 

It's like he was waiting -- watching -- because as soon as Louis' done, Harry's walking towards him quickly.

"Hey, wait," Harry says, when he's close enough to not have to say it too loud. He stops in front of Louis and fumbles with his fingers anxiously as he asks, "Do you think maybe we could talk? Like we did the other night?"

It's probably a request he should say no to, but he doesn't want to, so he doesn't. Technically, if someone doesn't like that he's getting close with a patient's family member, he can just tell them he's off work so it doesn't count. And Harry just wants to chat; that's innocent enough. 

"Yeah, we can."

Louis directs them to the cafeteria, mostly because he's been starving all day, and partly because Harry looks like he is, too. He orders them both a salad and a coffee without asking Harry if it's okay, and then they sit down at the same table they were at last time. 

"Thanks," Harry says quietly, forking lazily at his lettuce. It's clear he doesn't have much of an appetite and is only entertaining it because Louis got it for him. 

Louis waves him off as he takes a sip of his coffee. It's not like he bought it for Harry, he got it for free and extended the benefit. There's a difference. 

"So," he murmurs when he puts the coffee back down. "What did you want to talk about?"

He's not sure what he's expecting, but it's certainly not for Harry to rest his head on his arms on the table and sigh out a small, lonely, "Anything. Just. . . anything."

"Oh." Louis' not sure what else to say. He doesn't know what to talk to Harry, a glorified stranger, about. All they have in common right now is that they both know Gemma and Missy. That's really all that is tying them together. 

"I'm sorry," Harry mumbles quietly. "I'm just going a bit crazy here. I can't talk to Gemma much, since she's usually sleeping or trying to, and Missy is five. I don't have many options."

Louis is surprised to know that he's considered an option, but it's not a bad surprise. "Have you thought about asking one of your friends to stay here with you during the day? Or -- or maybe going home every now and then? You don't have to stay here all day."

"Most of my friends are in America. And I can't leave Gemma when she's so sick."

Louis can't argue with either of those points. 

Harry sighs quietly. "I like talking to you. You're nice. And you care about Missy a lot."

"I do," Louis agrees, nodding. 

"I saw the look on your face when she was talking about having to live with our grandparents," he says. "You looked genuinely upset."

Louis keeps nodding. "Yeah, well. She's just a kid. I don't like seeing her upset. Any kid, really."

"Well, just so you know, if Gemma doesn't, um, make it, I'll look after her. Raise her, I suppose. Gemma has shared guardianship of her with my grandparents, and they can help me petition the courts to get it on it, too." He lets out another soft sigh and sits up, rubbing at his face. He still hasn't touched his food. "They don't want much to do with Missy, to be honest. They love her, of course, but they have no interest in raising her. So even if I don't get guardianship, I'll still be the one taking care of her."

Louis nods. He understands that this is a tough situation, but he can't help but feel like maybe his grandparents should be a little more sympathetic towards Harry. He's twenty, has lost his mum, has a seeming MIA dad, and is off at university in America. They can't expect him to just drop everything, even if it is for his little sister. 

"And your dad?" Louis asks, because he can't help himself. 

Harry snorts halfheartedly. "Gemma and I have the same father. He died when I was six -- car accident. I don't. . . I don't have very many memories of him, so I'm not all that torn up about it. I'm sad, of course, and I wish he was still around for so many different reasons, but. . ." He takes a deep breath and drops his gaze. "Almost glad that he died when I didn't have the chance to really know him, you know? With my mum, like. . . We were best friends, and I had to watch her deteriorate."

Louis just nods, too choked up to be able to form a proper sentence. He doesn't know why he's so affected by Harry's words; he hears about people dying all the time. It's part of his job, kind of. But it's just -- he adores Missy, and he's quite fond of Harry. He hasn't gotten the chance to know Gemma much, but he's sure she's lovely. It's unfair that they've had to go through so much already. 

"And Missy was an accident," Harry says, chucking quietly. It sounds actually real for once, and it kind of shocks Louis. "Like, a proper oopsie. Her father is alive, and he's actually a decent bloke, he just. . . wasn't ready for a child, and my mother respected that."

"Well," Louis breathes out, trying to get his thoughts in order. "If it comes to you having to look after her, I'm sure you'll do fine. I'm sure you'll both be fine."

"I'm sure I wouldn't be awful," Harry concedes, and that's all he says on the matter. 

Louis leaves about fifteen minutes later, but only after convincing Harry to eat at least some of his salad. 

-

Harry asks for his number four days later. 

Louis didn't work for the last two days, and when he comes in on Tuesday, he's immediately bombarded by Missy. She marches up to the front desk, where Louis is sitting only due to the fact he had not-so-politely told Perrie to move because he didn't actually feel like doing much work today. He's hungover -- stupid Liam, stupid pubs, stupid dares -- and not at all in the mood to deal with anything, but as soon as Missy comes towards him, he feels himself loosen up a little. 

"Where  _ were _ you?" she demands, hands on her hips like she's actually mad. Harry, who followed her closely behind, gives him a look like he has been wondering the same thing. 

"Home," Louis tells her. "I don't work everyday, you know."

Missy makes a face. "Well, you  _ should _ . There's people here every day. Isn't it your _ job _ to take care of them?"

"Yes, but it's not just  _ my _ job, kiddo. There's plenty of people to look after them."

Missy raises her eyebrows at him. "Gemma had to wait twenty whole minutes for someone to come after she rang her call button thing. She wasn't feeling well, and nobody was here to look after _ her _ ."

Twenty minutes is far too long of a wait. There's plenty of nurses walking around during all hours of the day, and one of them should have aided Gemma in under five minutes, especially because of her current state. There's no reason -- not one -- that it should've taken twenty minutes. 

He glances to Harry, who shrugs a little. "I threw a proper tantrum already yesterday, don't worry. She got seeing to after that."

Louis nods. "Good. That's good." He turns back to Missy, who still looks awfully serious for having a face as little as hers. "Well, I'm sorry, Missy. Will a popsicle make it better?"

"Two might," she prods, and Louis rolls her eyes at her and scoffs. 

"Alright, two. Is one of those for your brother?"

She thinks hard for a moment before replying. "Could I maybe have three instead?"

He gives her a look. "Does Gemma get one?"

Before Missy can respond, Harry grabs her gently by the shoulders and pushes her closer to him. Missy looks undisturbed, but Harry's gone a bit more serious. "She's been having trouble holding things up lately," he says quietly. "We tried a popsicle yesterday, and she kept dropping it. She won't let me hold it for her, so." He looks down at Missy and smooths back her hair out of her face. "Just get Miss one though, please."

"Two!" Missy objects, and Harry shushes her. 

"Alright," Louis says softly, his heart bleeding for the three of them. He clears his throat and stands. "What flavor do you want, Harry?"

He shrugs. "I don't care."

"You have to pick one. It's mandatory."

Missy nods at her brother very seriously. "Mandatory."

"Red, then," Harry says, a bit shy. 

"Alright, I'll be back." 

He turns and goes to the kitchen, and on his way back, he bumps into Perrie, who eyes his popsicles critically. "I'm telling our boss that you are the official popsicle runner," she says threateningly. "I just had to clean up -- "

"Nope, don't want to hear it," he calls, walking away quickly. She calls something after him that he tunes out. 

Harry gives him a soft, thankful smile when Louis returns with the popsicle, and Louis wishes he would smile more, because it suits him quite well. 

"Wait, Louis," Harry says, when Louis turns to go do some actual work. He pauses, and Harry looks up at him sheepishly. "Could I maybe have your number? Just, like. . . just in case you're gone again and I want to talk to somebody. Please?"

And Louis wishes he could pass it off as a flirtatious advance, but it's not. It's more than that. Harry genuinely just wants someone to talk to, and he wants that someone to be Louis. 

Louis is more than okay with that. 

-

At four in the morning two days later, Louis' at his kitchen table, eating a bagel that he halfheartedly put cream cheese on and pretending like he's a functioning human being. It's how most of his mornings go; he hates having to work so early in the morning, but he hates night shifts with a burning passion. There's not another option, is there, so feeling like a zombie at four a.m. is what it has to be. 

When his phone goes off in the other room from where it's being charged, he doesn't even think about not answering it. He immediately gets up to go see who it is, because -- as he's mentioned several times -- it's four o'clock in the goddamn morning. Who would be calling him right now?

Harry, apparently, and Louis' stomach twists. Before he can work out of it's a good twist or a bad twist, he answers it. 

" _ Louis _ ," comes Harry's voice, raw and thick with tears. It sounds choked, like he's either trying not to cry or having trouble breathing. 

Louis tries to figure out what could be the matter. He knows Gemma was scheduled for a surgery last night -- he had been the one to get her ready for it -- but that was at seven, and it was supposed to be quick and easy, going in and getting out. She isn't in the best shape to withstand surgery, but Dr. Malik felt like it was necessary and that her not going under was a bigger risk than her not recovering from it. 

"What's going on, Harry?"

"She -- I don't even know," Harry tells him shakily, sounding overwhelmed. "They said she had a heart attack, I -- from a blood clot, or something, but I don't -- I don't know. And nobody will tell me what they're doing in there to her, and I just want to see her, and Missy is -- God, I just want to see her."

Louis closes his eyes and clenches his jaw. That's not good. At all. And to make it worse, he's pretty sure that Harry knows what this is most likely going to lead to. Gemma's not strong enough to survive a heart attack, and if by some miracle she is and she manages to pull through, her quality of life is going to be poorer than it already is. 

"I'll come down to the hospital and try to get someone to tell me something," he says, before he even really decided that himself. It's a good idea, though, so he quickly pulls on his scrubs and shoes as he listens to Harry cry. 

"How is Missy?" he asks once he gets into his car. He shoves the keys into the ignition and pulls out of his driveway. 

"She doesn't know what's going on. I called our grandma and had her come to the hospital to keep Missy occupied. They're off somewhere coloring, I'm pretty sure." He lets out a long, trembling breath. "I can't be the one to tell her if something goes wrong. Do you think someone else could do that? I don't -- I can't do that."

Louis almost offers to do it for him just so Harry can feel a little more peace, and he's incredibly glad he's able to stop himself before he says that. He couldn't tell Missy that her big sister and caretaker died. "If it comes to that," Louis says slowly, "Dr. Malik can sit down with the two of you to try and explain it to her. He's her main doctor, so it'd probably be best if he did it. . . But, Harry, I do think it'd be best coming from you."

Immediately, Harry protests. "I  _ can't _ , I  _ won't, _ I -- no, no, I -- "

"Okay," Louis says quickly. "Okay. I understand. But. . . maybe let's not think about that right now, alright? Gemma is alive still. She's still fighting."

"She's too tired to fight, Louis."

Louis' heart breaks at how fragile Harry sounds, and he wills the car to go a little faster. "She's tough, Harry. She's -- " he can't promise she'll be okay, and he doesn't want to give Harry false hope, so he settles on repeating quietly, "She's tough."

-

When he gets to the hospital, he immediately finds Perrie and tries to get all the information out of her that he can. She tells him what she knows -- not much -- and he relays the message to Harry, who gets lost in the medical talk even when Louis tries to simplify it for him. 

"But they had to do CPR?" Harry asks again, looking at Louis like he's praying he changes his answer. 

Louis nods grimly. Harry's face drops before he puts his head in his hands, and Louis reaches over to pat tentatively at Harry's knee. He's not expecting it when Harry grabs his hand and holds it, but he doesn't pull away, either. Harry is seeking comfort, and if Louis can provide him with that to any degree, he'll do that. 

He is, however, thankful that the rest of the waiting area is clear, because it might look a little unprofessional on his part. His coworkers will understand; they would all hold Harry's hand in a heartbeat if he asked them to. 

When Dr. Malik comes down the hall, by the look on his face, Louis can tell immediately that it's not good news. He's seen that look too many times before not to be able to identify it by now. And the nurse that's following him closely, Jade -- he's seen her face look like that before as well. 

Harry looks desperately hopeful. It's the first time he's hearing anything in a while, and he stands immediately, releasing Louis' hand in favor of twisting his hands together in front of him. He is staring at Dr. Malik with wide eyes and is breathing shakily, and when he's close enough, Harry asks, "When can I see her?"

Louis' stomach plummets as he watches Dr. Malik subtly flinch. It's not obvious enough for Harry to notice, but Louis does, and that's how he knows that Gemma is dead. 

"I think we should talk in the consultation room," Dr. Malik says, keeping his voice even and professional. Behind him, Jade shifts on her feet nervously. 

Harry glances at Louis warily before looking back at Dr. Malik. "But -- "

"Mr. Styles," Dr. Malik says softly. "I think this situation should be discussed in private."

Without leaving Harry room to argue, Dr. Malik motions to a closed door and starts walking towards it. Jade doesn't follow, and Louis hesitates, but Harry grabs his forearm and tugs him along, his fingernails digging into Louis' skin painfully. 

The consultation room is small and poorly decorated. Louis and Harry take a seat while Dr. Malik remains standing, and Harry's hands start fumbling with each other in his lap. Louis wants to hold his hand again, but he doesn't. 

"Mr. Styles," Dr. Malik says again. "I'm -- there's no easy way to tell you this. I'm sorry to tell you that, while we attempted to stabilize Gemma and her heart, our attempts were not successful. I'm sorry, Harry, but your sister has died."

Immediately, Harry looks down at his lap. His chest stutters. He digs his fingernails into the palm of his hand. His face turns red, and then he sniffles, small and dry. He puts a hand to his face and hunches over further, and that's when the floodgates open. He lets out a pained cry, and Dr. Malik shuts his eyes briefly, looking heartbroken himself. 

"I am deeply sorry for your loss," Dr. Malik whispers, and it sounds like he's said it before, like that's his default response during situations like this. "If there's anything we can do for you, I -- "

"I think I want to be alone?" Harry chokes out, and it sounds like a question. He looks up at Dr. Malik once before immediately looking down again. "I just -- can I stay in here? Please? I don't -- I want to be alone."

"Of course," Louis says quietly, standing. 

Dr. Malik nods. "Take as long as you need, Mr. Styles. And know that, as soon as you're ready to ask any questions you might have, have someone come find me and I'll be more than willing to explain anything you need."

"Okay," Harry cries, nodding a few times. "Yeah, okay."

Louis and Dr. Malik exchange a look before leaving the room. For a stupid, selfish moment, Louis thinks Harry's going to grab his wrist and tell him to stay, that he'll let Louis comfort him, but he doesn't. 

Ten minutes later, Harry's still in the consultation room, and he spots Missy wandering around the oncology ward with two popsicles in her hand, one opened and one unopened. He's about to go to a patient's room and take their vitals, but when he sees her and thinks, _she_ _just lost her sister and she doesn't even know it,_ he decides the patient can wait and calls out her name softly. 

Missy turns to the sound of her name, and when she spots him, she grins. She comes over to him while waving the unopened popsicle at him. "Do you know where Harry is? I want to give him this so I can go back to my coloring book, but I can't find him."

Louis swallows thickly. "I, uh. I don't, Miss, but I could give it to him when I see him next?"

"But I want him to know that it's from  _ me. _ "

"I could tell him."

She shakes her head stubbornly. "I can wait until he comes back."

With that, she turns on her heel and heads to the direction of the sitting area closest to Gemma's room. (It's not Gemma's room anymore. Her body will be transported, if it hasn't already been. The room will be cleaned, and someone else with cancer will fill her space.) Louis follows after her reluctantly; he doesn't want her to be alone right now, even if she doesn't know yet. 

"Where are your grandparents?" he asks her once he sits beside her. She is licking at her popsicle, legs swinging. He wonders how she's not tired right now. 

"Grandpa went home to sleep, but my grandma is on the first floor. She stayed to color with me."

Louis nods slowly. 

He waits for her for a little while, and nobody says anything to him about it either because they've heard the news already and don't want to bother Missy's happiness when she probably won't be happy for a long while after she finds out, or because he shift doesn't officially start for another fifteen minutes still. 

Ten minutes go by, and by then she's finished her popsicle and it's getting harder and harder for her not to cave and eat the one she got for Harry, too. He's about to tell her that it's alright, that she can just eat it and he can grab another one for Harry if he wants one, and then Harry's standing there, a few feet away from them, looking absolutely miserable. 

He's not crying anymore, but his face is blotchy and red and his lips are a dark red. Missy doesn't notice him at first, although as soon as Harry's eyes land on her, his face changes, contorting with sadness and fear, and then he's crying again. Louis must make a face, because Missy follows his gaze to see her brother, and immediately, she's on her feet and rushing over to him. 

He picks her up and hugs her tightly as she looks at him with wide, confused eyes. Harry has one hand cradling the back of her head, the other supporting her under her thigh, and Missy has her legs wrapped around his waist and her arms around his neck, the popsicle hanging from her fingers. 

"What's wrong, Harry?" she asks quietly. "Are you okay?"

He just cries harder and runs his hand over the back of Missy's head, maybe to soothe or distract himself. 

"Is it Gemma?" she asks, even quieter. Louis' so, so thankful he can't get a good look of her face. 

Harry pulls back from her just enough so that he can see her. He's still crying, but he manages a weak smile. "We'll be okay, alright? I'll protect you. I'll take care of you. I promise, okay? I promise you'll always have me. I won't leave you."

Missy lets out a nervous whimper. 

Abruptly, Louis realizes that he's massively intruding, that he shouldn't be sitting here and listening to Harry try and soothe his sister. He stands quietly, and then he goes down to the first floor to try and see if he can find their grandma. Maybe that's still intruding, but he's almost certain Harry would like someone else familiar around him. 

The first floor is large, and he walks around it twice before he finally spots an older woman sitting by herself at a small table. There's a coloring book and crayons spread out in front of her, and Louis' confident she's the one he's looking for. 

He's not sure what to say, but before he can work that out, he walks over to her. When she looks up, confused, he gives her a soft smile. "Are you -- do you know anyone by the name of Harry or Missy?"

Immediately, her confusion turns to fear. "Yes. Yes, I do, they're my grandchildren, why -- has something happened to Gemma?"

"I don't know anything," he lies, because he can't just go around telling people that Gemma's dead. He doesn't have the authority to do that. "But, um. They asked after you, so I offered to come get you." It's another lie, but one that he knows he's going to get away with. When she sees the state Harry is in, she'll have no doubts about Harry wanting to see her. 

"Um, well, alright," she says quietly as she stands to gather her things. Missy's crayons are scooped up and tossed in her purse and the coloring books bend when she picks them up, and he steps to the side so she can get past him and go to her grandchildren. 

He tells himself that he's not going to intrude any further on them. He even waits a solid three minutes before going back up to his floor. But he spots Harry slumped into his grandmother's side in the chairs, and he's clinging to her with everything he can muster. Missy sits beside him, her hands twisting nervously in her lap. 

He can't bring himself to look away until Liam taps his shoulder and gives him a sorry smile, forcing him back to reality. 

He's on his break when he gets another call from Harry. 

For a few seconds, he stares down at the screen. He doesn't want to answer. He's going to -- he's not evil -- but he's scared of what Harry's going to have to say. 

"Hello?" he answers, trying not to sound so hesitant. It doesn't really work.

"Hi," Harry croaks. He sniffles. 

"Are you still at the hospital?"

"We're waiting on some forms we have to fill out," he tells Louis. "I -- I don't care. I don't really want to be home right now, anyway."

Louis doesn't understand that. Wanting to be anywhere other than the hospital his sister just died in seems to make more sense to Louis, but he's not judging. 

"Can you take Missy to the chapel?" Harry asks, sounding apologetic and desperate. He clears his throat before he continues. "I don't want to go, and my grandma doesn't either. She's going home soon, anyway. And I just -- I think Missy needs that. I think that'd do her good. When, um. When our mum died, Gemma and I told her -- " his voice cracks, and he takes about a minute before finishing his thought. When he does, his voice is tight and choked. "We told her that she was in Heaven and with the angels and God and all that. That's what you do with kids, isn't it? Nothing else to tell them that doesn't sound scary."

He has a point. Death is a hard concept to wrap your head around for anyone, let alone children. If Heaven is the story that Missy accepts, then that's the story she's going to get. Louis is just glad Harry is willing to put his religious differences aside for the sake of his sister. Louis isn't religious, either, but he's sure he would do the same if it came to his sister. 

Harry lets out a broken laugh. "And you know where it is and I don't, so. Please?"

"Of course," Louis says finally. He doesn't know how long he stayed quiet for. "I -- yes. Are you still in the oncology ward?"

"Yeah. The nurses cleaned up Gemma's room so we could sit here for a little while. It, um." His voice is growing thick again. "It's helping her, I think. To see that Gemma's not in her bed anymore. It's forcing her to confront that this is actually happening. Gemma. . . Gemma never seemed to get out of that goddamn bed."

"I'll be up in a second." He doesn't want to acknowledge anything else Harry just said. It's breaking his heart. 

"Thank you. Seriously."

"It's not a problem," he says. He stands and throws away the rest of his food before taking his coffee and walking towards the stairs. Taking the elevator would obviously be faster, but he doesn't want to risk losing connection with Harry. "Are you -- I mean, will you be okay? I know that sounds like a really stupid question, all things considering, but just -- do you think you'll be able to get through this okay?"

Harry's quiet before admitting, "I don't know. I really, really don't know. This is. . . This is the worst thing that could have happened to me and her. It was my biggest fear. And just three and a half weeks ago I was finding out my sister had cancer, and now she's dead, and I -- don't know."

"I'm so, so sorry."

"I can tell you I'm not ready to be a parent. I can tell you that much for sure."

Louis winces. Harry's not going to be able to even have a chance to cope properly, not when he has to worry about Missy on top of everything else. 

"You'll get through this, H," Louis whispers. He's not even sure if he believes it, so he's not quite sure why he says it. 

Missy is laying on the now-clean sheets of the hospital bed, looking small and lost. Is lost, probably. Because as good of a person Harry seems to be, it's going to be difficult adjusting to being raised by her twenty-year-old brother who has lived in America for the last few years. 

Harry is sitting in the chair beside the bed, the same one he sat in when Gemma was the one laying down and not Missy. His hands are balled up and pulled up toward his chin as he hunches in on himself. When he looks up, his face is full of anguish. 

Harry nods at him once before clearing his throat quietly. "Miss. Louis is going to take you down now, okay?"

Missy shifts, making herself smaller. "Harry. . ."

"Please don't be difficult. Please just go. We talked about this already."

"I want to stay here. With you."

Louis' stomach curls in sorrow. 

"Can you please come with?" Missy asks, sitting up. It's clearly not the first time she's asked him to. 

Harry puts his head in his hands and sighs loudly. He offers no other response. 

Determined, Missy crawls over to the side of the bed and reaches out, tugs at Harry's wrist. He doesn't move, so she tugs harder. "I don't want to leave you," she says quietly, in a way that clearly translates to, _ I don't want to leave, because when I come back, I'm scared you won't be here, too. _

"Fine," Harry agrees after a moment. He stands, his jaw locked. Missy got her way, but she doesn't look happy at all. She stretches out her arms, and Harry nods and scoops her up. 

Harry's eyes find Louis'. They look full of defeat. "Can you just walk us down, then? I won't make you stay."

"I will," Louis says softly. "If you want me to, I will."

Harry nods once before kissing the top of Missy's head. 

Louis hasn't been in a church since he was about twelve, when his great uncle died. He thinks that's a long time, considering he's twenty-two, and it's not like he's been avoiding them. He has no qualms with religion, it's just not his cup of tea. Never has been. 

(He's been in this chapel once, to answer a phone call from his mum because he was bored and didn't want to be caught. There was nobody inside it at the time, but he still felt bad for doing it.)

Harry, however, looks like he kind of wants to jump out of those fake glass windows. He doesn't want to be here, that much is obvious. He sits at the back, and Louis does too. Missy goes off towards the front, politely exploring. She stops in front of a pair of angels for a short while. 

Louis watches Harry's thumb swirl over his cross tattoo. He doesn't quite understand Harry's perspective on religion, although if Harry's feeling a little angry and cheated by the bigger power he believes in, Louis can understand that. It seems a little unfair, doesn't it, that both of his parents are dead and now so is his big sister. 

"It's already been six hours," Harry whispers, biting on his bottom lip. His eyebrows are furrowed. "It doesn't. . . it doesn't feel like that long. Feels like only a moment ago I was holding her hand." He leans down so his elbows are resting on his knees and he leans his cheek on his clasped hands. "Her hands were always so cold."

It doesn't feel that long for Louis, either, although it has been. 

"You should be able to go home by now. Whatever form they need you to sign, they should've got it to you by now. It's not right that you have to be stuck here."

Harry huffs out a small, humorless laugh. "There are no forms. I mean, there was, but I already signed them. I just don't want to go home."

"Why?" Louis asks tentatively. He doesn't understand that. If Louis lost one of his sisters, all he would be doing right now is hiding away in his room, probably under a stack of blankets. 

"Not a home to me, is it," Harry murmurs. "It's Gemma's apartment, not mine. I still don't know where anything is. I feel out of place there already, and now it's just going to be worse. Now I'm going to have to walk around and see her things everywhere, and I -- " he closes his mouth and exhales deeply. "That was one of the hardest parts about losing my mum. Seeing all her things in the house, knowing that we should probably throw some of it out because it had no use for us but not being able to bear it. . . Going through her room. Seeing all the things she'd never use again."

Tears leak out of his eyes, but they don't seem to have much strength, like his body is struggling to produce them. He doesn't wipe at them, just lets them fall. He lets out a tired breath. 

"I'm going to have to drop out of school," Harry says, and then immediately, he's rolling his eyes. "That sounds so selfish, God. I just. . . I know I shouldn't be thinking about that yet, but I can't help it."

Louis frowns. "You don't necessarily have to drop out."

"What, am I supposed to move Missy to New York with me?" Harry asks, sounding annoyed. He sighs and wipes at his face. "All my credits won't transfer. I'll have to retake so many classes, and I don't have the kind of money I can just throw around. Especially now that I have to take care of Missy." He's starting to sound angry, but Louis knows it's just from exhaustion. "She starts kindergarten next year. She was supposed to start this year, but Gemma changed her mind last minute and decided to wait." He snorts dryly. "Guess I know why now."

"You don't have to have this all figured out right now," Louis reminds him gently. "You have a while to figure out the university thing. It's only the middle of December. And you have even longer to worry about Missy starting school. That's months away."

Louis realizes with horror that Christmas is in a week. That seems like overkill, he thinks. She couldn't make it to Christmas. Her siblings should have been allowed to have her for Christmas, fucking hell. 

He glances up to see that Missy has gone back to the statue of the pair of angels. She's staring up at them, transfixed. He wonders what she's thinking. And where the popsicle went. 

"If it was me," Harry starts hoarsely, and immediately, Louis reaches over to set his hand on his knee and shushes him. 

"Don't do that. Don't start that kind of talk."

"But if it was me," Harry repeats, sounding broken. "Missy would be okay. Undoubtedly. Gemma is -- was -- always so good at keeping her emotions out of things. And Gemma -- Gemma could take losing me. She wasn't as knocked back as I was after our mum's death. She didn't mourn so outwardly like I did. And she was so close to finishing her degree, to -- " he cuts himself off with a sob that he tries and fails to bite back. "I wish it was me who died instead. I really, really do."

It’s natural to think that, Louis tries to remind himself. Everyone thinks that after losing a close loved one. It's what everyone does, but Louis still can't shake the feeling he gets from Harry saying that. He doesn't want him thinking that. That's -- he doesn't want to think he is more replaceable than Gemma was. Maybe he is, Louis doesn't know, but that's not a good thing to think about yourself. And he's already so worried about Harry; him saying that doesn't help any. 

Missy must hear her brother crying, because she comes over to them quickly. She climbs up on the pew and wraps her arms around his middle, her head coming to rest on his shoulder. 

"I'm okay, Miss," he chokes out, sounding very much not okay. "Don't worry about me, alright?"

Missy doesn't respond at first. She continues looking up at the altar, her face blank. He wonders how much of this she's actually processed so far. 

After about a minute, she shifts and presses a short kiss to Harry's cheek. "That's what Gemma always says, too."

Louis has to look away. 

-

Harry and Missy go home about two hours later, and that's that. 

-

For about two weeks. And then Louis gets a call mid-shift from Harry, one that he has to ignore for now but weighs heavily on his mind until he has a chance to step aside and call him back. He's only ever had Harry's name lighting up his screen twice, and both times that conversation led to Louis' heart breaking a bit, so he's not at all surprised to hear how strained and distraught Harry sounds when he does return his call. 

"I don't even know why you called me back," is what Harry answers with. He doesn't sound angry, just. . . distant. Sucked dry. "You don't know me. You don't owe me anything, and yet you still keep being so nice to me, and I don't get why."

"When someone calls you, you usually call them back. I mean, that's what I was taught." He's trying for a light comment that'll maybe loosen up some of the tension Harry is so evidently feeling. It doesn't seem to do anything. 

"I don't even know why I called you." He sniffles quietly and sighs. "Well, I do, I suppose. . . The only friend I have here is Niall, you don't -- you don't know him. Obviously. But all he ever wants to do is talk about Gemma, and I just -- can't."

_ So you decided calling me was your only other option? _ Louis doesn't ask. He supposes people have done crazier things when feeling so lonely. Louis had given him a small fraction of security and comfort in the past, and he knows that those are two things that Harry is searching for frantically right now. 

"Christmas fucking sucked," Harry chokes out around a sad laugh. "Missy just cried the whole day. So did I. She misses her so fucking much, Louis, and I don't," his voice catches, "I don't know what to  _ do _ ."

Louis closes his eyes and leans his head back against the seat. He went out to his car for his twenty minute break, just so he could have a bit of privacy. "It's going to be hard at first, Harry. But you'll get through it."

"Will I? Because I don't think I will. I don't think I can do this."

"Harry -- "

"No, Louis. You don't understand." He sucks in a sharp breath and huffs it back out. "I have to look after another person when I can't even function properly myself. My grandparents aren't helping at all, and I know it's just because they're scared I'll ditch her on them, but -- and Niall, God, he's trying to help, but for some reason Missy gets upset when she's around anyone other than me, so I'm in this all by myself."

"You're not alone. You're never alone. There's people -- "

Harry completely ignores him. "And she's being so difficult. She won't do anything easily. I make her food, and she says she's not hungry. I ask her to take a bath, she says she'll do it tomorrow. She won't ever go to bed, and she always wants to sleep in my room, but she doesn't fucking understand that I need space, too. I need time to fucking breathe without her being right there, needing something from me every two seconds."

"Harry. She's five years old."

"I  _ know  _ that," he snaps. "And I understand how lost she's feeling, and I also get that this would be so much easier now if I hadn't gone off to America as soon as I could, but I can't keep up with her. I can't keep being pulled every which way."

"What happened that you're feeling so shit today?" Louis asks. This doesn't sound like Harry at all. Even as defeated as Harry felt in the hospital, he never sounded like this. "Like, did anything in particular make you so upset?"

Harry's quiet for a long moment, and Louis knows he's on to something. 

"I yelled at her this morning," Harry says softly. He sounds so ashamed. "I didn't mean to. And I've apologized, and I'm pretty sure she’s forgiven me, but I. . . I didn't feel like I was in control. It's like I snapped, or something."

"You're under a lot of stress. That's understandable."

"But she's my little sister. She's -- she deserves someone better than me, Louis."

Louis wishes he knew Harry a little better, because now would be the time he'd say something soothing like,  _ I know you, Harry, and it was just a bad moment. You're a good person, don't forget that. _ But to be quite honest, Louis doesn't know what kind of person Harry is. He's pretty sure he's a decent person, but what if he's actually some ill-tempered, selfish, lazy arse? Louis has no way of knowing for sure. 

"I don't think that's true," Louis settles on, and even to him, it sounds a bit weak. 

Harry doesn't say anything. 

"Are you taking care of yourself, though?" Louis asks, changing the topic as much as he can. "Eating enough, drinking enough, sleeping."

"All I've been doing is sleeping. Well, not really, I'm usually just laying down with my eyes closed, but. . . I'm sleeping enough, yes."

That spikes worry within Louis, but he tries to push it aside. "And are you eating enough? Showering, and all that, too."

"Eating? Most of the time. Showering? Definitely not." He gives a humorless laugh. "Missy really doesn't like it when I leave her. She gets anxious. I went out to the shops the other day, it took twenty minutes tops, and she was completely freaked out when I got back."

Louis suppresses a sigh. "Harry. You can't just leave her home by herself."

"Well, she wouldn't come with me and we were out of milk and toilet paper, so. I don't see what else I could've done."

"Call someone next time," Louis tells him. He's being the most stern with Harry than he's ever been. If something were to happen to Missy -- and accidents happen all the time, five year old's move fast and find trouble faster -- then Harry would be completely shattered. "Call Niall, or your grandparents, or, fuck, even me, alright? But don't leave her by herself again. Especially if she's feeling abandoned."

Harry lets out a shaky breath. "So you do think I'm screwing her up already? Oh, God."

"No, no, no," Louis says quickly. "Not at all. You're trying your best. You're learning."

There's a soft voice calling his name, and then some shuffling. Harry must be moving closer to the source of the noise, because Louis can hear a familiar voice say petulantly, "I can't reach it. Get it for me. Please."

Harry sighs, like whatever she's requesting is going to take a huge amount of effort on his part. It's probably not going to, but Harry's most likely seeing everything as a chore right now.

"I should go," Harry says quietly. "She wants to play Scrabble. Again. She knows, like, five words, Louis." He sounds overwhelmed. 

"Teach her more, then," Louis tells him. He should probably go as well, so he tells Harry that he has to get back to work. 

"Wait," Harry says, just after Louis says goodbye. Louis waits. "Were you -- were you serious about me calling you? I mean, could I? If I needed someone?"

Louis nods. "Yeah. Of course."

Harry lets out a breath. "Okay. Thank you. Goodbye, Louis."

"Goodbye, Harry," Louis says, and then disconnects the call. While he's heading back up to his floor in the elevator, he wonders if he imagined the relief in Harry's voice or not. 

-

Two days later, he finds himself walking up too many stairs to get to room 201 of an apartment complex, and he doesn't really know what he's getting himself into. All he knows is that when he woke up to a voicemail from Harry, Harry had sounded completely desperate and scared. 

"I need to go out to the shops today," he said. "And I told her that this morning, and she  _ screamed _ at me, Louis. She -- she  _ threw _ stuff at me. I need to buy food and shampoo. And I need to get out of this fucking flat before I actually lose my mind."

Louis called him back, wrote down the directions Harry gave him, and now he's here. 

He knocks tentatively and pushes down the urge to run away. He could, probably. Louis has no responsibility of Harry or Missy, but -- he can't do that. He's not evil. And he genuinely wants to help them, he just wishes he knew what he was walking into, is all. 

Harry answers the door after a second or two, and he looks terrible. 

His clothes are clean and his hair looks washed. His shoes are on the right feet. But that's about the only positive things Louis can say about him. Harry's paler than he was a few weeks ago, skinnier, too, and there's clear evidence that he's been crying. His face is blotchy and red, and his eyes look irritated. And above everything else, he looks exhausted and frail in a way that no person should ever look. 

"Hi," Harry says, voice scratchy. "I'm sorry for making you come here."

"No worries," Louis promises, and he gives him a smile. Harry holds the door open for him, so Louis walks in. He expects to see the flat in disarray, but it's not. It's a bit untidy, but not a complete mess. And most of the stuff that's not put away looks like it belongs to Missy, judging by the ponies and orange splashed over everything.

The fact that things aren't more of a wreck worries Louis more, somehow. The washed clothes, the mostly tidy apartment, the fact that Harry's showered -- it looks a bit to Louis like Harry's trying desperately to distract himself, or something. He could be wrong, but judging by the way Harry immediately goes over to pick up Missy's toys and put them away with jittery hands, he suspects he isn't. 

"Do you want coffee?" Harry asks, turning to him. He wipes his hands over his jeans before stuffing them in his pockets. 

"Sure."

He's not sure why he says it. He doesn't want coffee, and he doesn't want to make Harry go fix him a cup. He's just. . . nervous. 

Harry goes over to the kitchen area and pours him a mug from the coffee pot. He sets in on the counter and grabs a packet of sugar and pours it in without asking Louis if he wants one first. It's not a big deal; Louis would've said no, but it's alright. 

"Where's Missy?" Louis asks, just for the sake of saying something. Afterwards, he thinks he maybe should have apologized for Gemma again, or asked when her funeral is, if there hasn't been one already. 

"In her room." Harry comes over to him and hands him the mug, and Louis accepts it with a small thanks. The glass burns his hands, and he wonders how Harry didn't even flinch at it. "Ignoring me," Harry adds after a moment with a small frown. 

"Oh," Louis murmurs, shifting his hands on the mug. "Why is she so mad at you today?"

"It's like this every day," Harry corrects sadly, moving past Louis to go fiddle with some papers on the table. He straightens them, and when he gets them perfect, he focuses on rearranging the pencil cup sitting a little ways away from it. "She's not used to living with me like this," Harry says after a second. "We haven't lived together for more than a few days for a few years now, and I don't think she likes it much."

Louis shakes his head. "She adores you. It seemed like it, anyway."

"I'm too different from Gemma." He looks wounded as he looks up at Louis with wide eyes. "I don't know how Gemma parented her. Like, how she disciplined her or when she made her dinner or how often she made her bathe. When bedtime was. I'm kind of just making it up as I go, and she -- Missy hates that. She hates that more things are changing, but she won't help me at all. She just wants me to know all these things myself, or figure them out, and I can't."

Harry looks seconds away from crying, and Louis doesn't know what to do. He has no idea. Anything he thinks to say sounds bad after he thinks about it, and anything he wants to do seems too invasive. 

Finally, after Harry sits down at the table and starts messing with the papers again, Louis clears his throat. "Is there anything you need help with while I'm here? Like, anything other than watching her for a little while?"

Harry shakes his head almost immediately, looking down. He didn't even let himself think about taking Louis' help, so Louis lets him think it over more before asking him again. 

Slowly, Harry looks up at him. "Her funeral arrangements," he starts, sounding ashamed and looking unsure. "I don't even know where to start."

"Your grandparents should be doing that," he says, can't help himself. No twenty year old should have to figure out what to do for his sister's funeral. That's fucked. Still, he shouldn't be the one pointing that out. "Sorry," he mumbles, sitting down across from Harry at the table. 

"They don't want any responsibility over any of this," Harry tells him. He won't leave the papers be. Sitting closer, Louis can see that the top paper is his mother's obituary. "They're scared I'm going to go back to America and they'll have to deal with everything. They -- I don't understand why they can't see I'm not asking them to do things for me, I'm just asking for help. For a little guidance."

"You don't seem irresponsible. Why are they being so cautious?"

"I left my grieving sisters for another country barely five months after our mother died," Harry snaps, looking fierce. It's the strongest Harry's voice has been since Harry's got here. "I acted like a little shit after she died. I told you: Gemma didn't grieve like I did. She handled it like a normal person, and I," he huffs out a laugh, "I went off the fucking deep end."

Louis takes a sip from his coffee, unsure what to say. It burns his throat as it goes down. 

"I got most of these right after she died." Harry motions to his arm full of tattoos and rolls his eyes. "I liked the pain, and all that. Which, looking back on, is a bit fucked."

Louis nods in agreement. 

"And I started smoking," Harry continues, and he rolls his eyes at himself again. "Don't know why. As like, a fuck you to cancer, I guess? Like, alright, bastard, come get me now?" He shakes his head and runs his hand through his hair. "And I started drinking a bit heavily, but not -- I'm not a bad drunk. Like, I don't get angry or anything. I just usually got super wasted and then slept." He still doesn't stop rustling with the papers. Louis wishes he would just stop. "You know how I said that I don't have many friends here? Well, that's 'cause I cut them all off. I just stopped talking to them entirely. Some of those people I knew my entire life, and I just. . ." he trails off, shaking his head. 

Louis nods slowly. That seems safe. But when Harry doesn't start talking again, he knows he should probably say something. "Well," he says. "You were younger then, I suppose. Didn't know any better. It's not like you are doing any of that now." The unspoken, _ you aren't, right?  _ rings clear. 

Harry shakes his head. "I'm not usually so reckless. I just -- losing her was hard. And I've never really gotten over it. And now I have to figure out how to digest losing Gemma on top of it, and I can't." He closes his eyes and drags his hand over his face. "She's been sitting in some, like, refrigerator for almost three weeks because I can't bring myself to make funeral plans."

Louis winces at the way he phrased that. That's -- unsettling. And probably not how Louis would've put it, but. He also didn't just lose his sister, so he's not judging. 

"Do you know where you want her buried? Or where you want her service to be at?"

Harry nods immediately. "With our mum. Like, near her grave." He slides the obituary over to Louis and points at a funeral home's name. "That's where we had the service for my mum, and it was nice. I think I want it there."

Louis carefully only barely glimpses at the picture of their mother. He doesn't want to see her too closely, for some reason. "Maybe call them?" Louis suggests lightly. It's just -- that's the obvious next step, right? 

"I can't," Harry says, shaking his head. "I've sat down to do it so many times, and I can't. I don't know why."

"Okay, that's okay," Louis soothes, not liking how that managed to get Harry so worked up so fast. "Give yourself a little more time, then."

Before Harry can respond, a door opens from down the hall and there's the noises of light feet padding across the floor. Missy appears with a cat in her arms -- Evie, he remembers. The cat makes Missy look smaller than she actually is, because it's just a little fat. Cute, though. 

"What are you doing here?" she asks quietly. She sets Evie down on the floor before coming over and crawling up into Harry's lap. Immediately, Harry wraps his arms around her and drops a kiss to the top of her head. He looks calmer than he has since Louis got here. 

"Harry needs to run to the shops really quick, and I'm going to keep an eye on you and Evie while he's gone," Louis explains, smiling at her. She looks sad in a way that he can't even explain. Outwardly, she looks normal, but there's just -- something about her. The air around her, or something. She's heartbroken.

"Can't you go for him?" she asks. 

Harry closes his eyes briefly before shaking his head. He reaches over to cover their mother's obituary with an official looking document before responding. "No, Miss. I'm going to go."

"But  _ why _ ?"

"Because," he answers a bit unhelpfully. Her face twists, and before she can say anything hurtful, Louis intervenes. 

"He needs some fresh air," Louis tells her. "Besides, I don't know what the two of you need."

She lets out a breathy whine and throws her head back, almost knocking Harry in the face. He moves in time, and then he reaches over to run his hand across the top of her head, flattening her hair down. 

"You can always come with me. I've told you that."

"And I've told  _ you  _ that I don't _ want _ to go," Missy fires back. 

Louis watches as Harry's patience and willpower disappears. His shoulders fall and he sighs quietly, shakes his head. Defeat doesn't look good on him. He brings his thumb to his mouth and pulls on his bottom lip before shaking his head again and standing, maneuvering her off his lap and into the chair. 

'Where are you  _ going _ ?" she huffs, watching him go to the kitchen area. 

"Missy, stop. Please."

"I'm not even doing anything," she protests.

Louis kind of just sits there. He's not close enough with either of them to even know where to begin with diffusing the suffocating tension in the room. And he's pretty sure it's not his place to, either. 

But when he turns to see how shattered Harry looks, he knows he has to do something. He's just not sure what yet. 

Harry pours himself a cup of coffee and pours three packets of sugar in it. He throws away the emptied packets and turns to lean against the kitchen counter, bringing the mug around to take a long sip. Louis' is only now cooling off; he can't imagine how hot Harry's is right now. 

He's shut down. His posture, his glazed over eyes, the way he's staring at the floor despondently -- he's done. 

Missy seems to recognize it, too, because she shifts her attention on Louis. She seems to size him up before sighing at him. "Aren't you supposed to be at the hospital?"

He shakes his head. "I'm off today."

"Your job is to help people," she hedges. "Shouldn't you be there, like. Helping them?"

"There are other people there helping them, love. I promise you."

She glares at him. "Your people are not very good at  _ helping _ , you know."

He shifts in his seat uncomfortably, trying not to set her off. There's nothing he can say that won't, though. She wants to fight. She wants it so bad, and he's got the feeling that Harry gives up too quickly to give her much of one. 

"Sometimes we can't help everyone," he says slowly. "Sometimes it's just people's time."

"It was  _ not  _ her time."

Louis stares at her helplessly. How do you explain this to a five year old? You can't. He wasn't expecting her to be so angry. 

"I thought we were  _ friends _ ," Missy hisses, sounding absolutely betrayed. 

"For fuck's sake, Missy," Harry snaps, finally coming back to the surface. He sets his coffee down on the table loudly and sighs. "Leave him be. He's here to help us."

"He's shit at helping," she snaps.

"Watch your mouth," Harry grumbles, shaking his head. "I mean it. Do not give him a hard time. Just stay in your room while I'm gone if you're going to be like that."

She falls quiet, much to Louis' surprise. He thought she was going to be at it the entire time. 

"Alright, I'm going to go," Harry mumbles. He grabs his keys off the counter and shoves them in his pocket. He hesitates, only for a moment, before coming over to squeeze Missy's shoulder. "Do you want anything while I'm out?"

She sniffles and looks up at him. "Can I have a Mars Bar, please?"

"Sure," Harry agrees immediately. "Anything else?"

She shakes her head, and Harry nods. He presses a kiss to her cheek, and as he pulls back, she reaches out to grab his shirt. He pauses, but all she does is tug on in once before letting it go. Harry turns to Louis next. 

"Do you need anything? Like, anything. At all."

Louis shakes his head. "No. Thank you, though."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. Just be safe, okay?"

Harry nods, and then he's gone. 

For a short while, Missy talks to him quietly. About nothing at all, really. She mostly talks about Evie and how she likes to play Scrabble with Harry, and that's about it. There's nothing else really to say, is there? 

"And how's Harry been lately?" he asks, as nonchalantly as he possibly can make it. He doesn't want to make her worry about her brother; Louis can do that himself. He only needs a little more information to work with. 

She frowns, staring intently at the table. She's been drawing circles with her fingers on the table, but that stops after Louis asks her about Harry. "He's sad," Missy says decidedly, and she looks up at Louis. She looks both a bit confused and upset. "Gemma said I couldn't let him get sad, but it's not working."

Louis' heart clenches. That's not fair. Gemma shouldn't have told Missy that that was her job. She was probably trying to take care of Harry in her own way, but -- of course Harry's going to be sad. Missy can't help that. 

"You don't have to worry about him, honey," he says gently. "He's okay."

"He lays in bed a lot. Like Gemma did."

Immediately, Louis shakes his head sternly. "He's not sick like Gemma was," he promises, reaching out to grab her hand. "He's just a little tired."

"Niall told me I should try and get him out of bed," she says. "That's why I keep trying to play Scrabble with him, but he doesn't want to play, usually."

"I'm sure it makes him happy that you want to play with him, Miss."

She shrugs before climbing off the chair. He watches her go to the fridge and grab out a bowl of spaghetti. She brings it over to Louis and hands it to him, sighing quietly. 

"Harry always makes sure there's food in the fridge for me. But I don't think he knows I can't reach the microwave." She looks awfully serious, and it makes Louis' heart loosen up a bit, especially with how she trips over the word 'microwave'. He laughs and squeezes her shoulder before grabbing the bowl and heating it up for her. 

As soon as he hands it to her, he warns her it's a little hot, and she retreats to her room. 

Once she goes, he looks around the room more. He didn't realize how many family pictures there were everywhere before, and he's not sure how, because they're  _ everywhere _ . 

There's a few sitting on the side table next to the couch. Those are the ones he notices first. The picture in the front is of Harry, Gemma, their mother, and a man, who Louis quickly assumes to be their father. Harry's so, so young in it, and he looks so happy, his smile so vibrant and warm. Gemma is smiling, too, but she doesn't look as happy as Harry does. Harry's fucking beaming from where he's sitting in his father's lap, and their mum is staring down at the two of them with a proud smile. 

There's one of just Harry and Gemma next to it, and they're teenagers. Harry can't be more than fifteen here, and his smile is still radiant and wide. Gemma has her arm slung over his shoulders, and they're out in the snow. He wonders if they were building snowmen or sledding. He wonders who took the picture. 

A picture of Harry and Missy standing in front of a giant Christmas tree is next, and immediately, Louis can tell that their mother was gone when this one was taken, or at the least very sick. He's crouching down next to Missy, who is much shorter and chubbier than she is now, and he looks happy, but it's just -- different. He's smiling, but it looks mechanical. Like as soon as whoever took the picture told them they were set, his mouth slipped back into a frown. 

He's probably looking too far into things, but he can't help it. 

A picture of their mum is sitting beside the TV. Harry and Missy look more like her that Gemma did -- at least, from this picture. She was beautiful, though, and she looked kind, like the type of woman you would immediately trust. Next to that one is a picture frame that's face-down, and Louis puts it right side up, curious. The smiles of their mum, their dad and two-year-old Gemma sitting in front of her birthday cake are flashed, and he immediately understands why it was face down. 

They're all dead. All of them. Looking at family pictures must be painful for both Harry and Missy, especially now. 

He sets it back down and sighs. They both deserve so much more. 

Forty minutes later, Harry comes home with four bags of groceries and a Tesco's job application in his hands. 

Louis doesn't notice it at first, but as he helps Harry put away the groceries, he sees it, and he immediately looks to Harry. "You don't have to get a job right away," he says in disbelief. Harry's putting way too much pressure on himself. 

Harry furrows his eyebrows at Louis and stands slowly from where he was putting a few cans in the bottom cupboard. He closes the cabinet's door quietly. "I. . . I'm not in a place, financially, where I feel completely secure without a job." He comes over and grabs the application off the counter and places it on top of the fridge, out of sight. 

"It hasn't even been a month. You don't have to do that right now."

Harry shakes his head as he grabs the milk out of a bag. "I have my mum's money, but Gemma and I both agreed we were going to use that for schooling only. I'm not done with college, Missy hasn't even started kindergarten yet." He puts the milk in the fridge and closes the door. "Gemma's income was going towards everything else. Like, the flat, and everything. And she only had a few grand in the bank, and I'm -- before she died, she gave me access to it, but I'm keeping that as our emergency money." He stands up straight and shrugs. "So I have my money, and it'll be enough to take care of groceries and bills for the next five months if I did the math right, but that -- I don't like that. I want to feel prepared, and I don't right now."

So he's thought this through, then. That's probably for the best, Louis thinks. He's clearly sat down and thought through this, and that shows responsibility and thinking long-term. Louis' oddly soothed by the fact that Harry is thinking of his future. 

"Fair enough," he says, because, well. It is. Harry's got a point. Louis can't deny that. 

After they've finished with the groceries, Harry turns to him with a tired smile. "You can go now. Thank you for, like, everything. Seriously."

Louis shrugs and slides his hands in his front pocket. "I didn't exactly do much, mate."

"Still. Thank you."

"Not a problem," Louis promises with a smile. He should probably go, though. A part of him wants to stay, but he can't think up a reason that Harry would want him to stay for, and besides, Harry probably doesn't want loads of company right now. Especially from a stranger. "I'll go, but -- Harry." He shrugs again. "If there's anything you need, like, anything, just let me know, alright? If you need someone to sit with you while you call the funeral home, or someone to watch Missy, or someone to go out for groceries for you, call me. If you'd like, I mean."

Harry looks relieved as he nods once. He opens his mouth to respond, but then he closes it again and nods again. "Thank you," he manages after a moment. "Seriously. You don't have to be doing any of this for us. You could totally just tell me to fuck off and I'd understand completely."

Now Louis' the one to nod, and then he turns on his heel and leaves after telling Harry to say goodbye to Missy for him. 

-

The next time he sees Harry about a week later, it's not after a phone call or at a hospital, which is refreshing. It's at Tesco's, and Harry's in one of the aisles, stocking the shelf. 

He looks relatively content. He doesn't look downright miserable, and he looks healthy enough, and working might actually be a good thing for him. It probably helps get his mind off things, as much as possible. And when a customer comes over to him and asks him a question, Harry politely points her in the right direction with a smile, and -- 

Harry turns, and he sees Louis there, watching him like some kind of freak. An awkward laugh is punched out of him as he comes closer to Harry, and he shifts the basket he's carrying from hand to hand nervously. 

"Hey," he says, stopping in front of Harry, who genuinely looks pleased to see him. "You got a job here pretty fast."

Harry nods. "Gemma used to work here a few years ago, and the manager heard she was sick, so." He shrugs. "Pity can be a good thing, I suppose."

"Oh. Well, that's good, I guess."

A somewhat stilted silence stretches between them, and moments like this remind Louis that they don't know each other. They've maybe moved from strangers to on-the-edge of friends, but still. They aren't there yet. And Louis doesn't know why talking to Harry seems so easy until he's actually doing it. 

"I finally called the funeral home," Harry says, after a moment. He looks down at the rack of cans that he must be stocking before glancing back up at Louis with wide eyes. "The night you watched Miss for me, actually. I don't know. You just made me feel like I could do it, or something."

"That's good," Louis tells him, ignoring how that makes him feel. Helpful, mostly, which is exactly what Louis wants to be. He just wants to help them out a little. "Is everything sorted, then?"

"Almost. Just have to find Missy something to wear." He gives him a short smile. "She wants to wear her Hello Kitty dress, and I don't -- she's an odd one, is all."

Louis laughs at that, even though the image of Missy wearing a bright pink dress in the mist of black makes his stomach flip painfully. 

"It's in a little less than two weeks," Harry says quietly. He stiffly crosses his arms over his chest in a way that seems more vulnerable than threatening. "I'd like it if you came. If you can, obviously. I know you work a lot."

A warmth spreads throughout Louis' body. "Yeah?" he asks. That's a big deal, isn't it? Going to her funeral. He didn't know Gemma well enough to be invited to her funeral based on their friendship, so his invite is solely due to the fact that Harry wants him there. It shouldn't make him feel as wanted as it does. It's not like he invited him on a date; it's his sister's funeral, for fuck's sake. 

"Yeah. I was going to text you sooner, but. . . " he squints at Louis and laughs, a little nervously. "Was afraid that you'd say no."

"I wouldn't have," Louis says quickly. Maybe too quickly, but he doesn't care. Because he wouldn't have said no, no matter what. If he had work, he would have called off, and if he had something else to do -- and let's be honest, he wouldn't have any other plans, because nursing school effectively destroyed his social life -- he would have cancelled.

Harry nods shortly before taking a small step back. It's a clear,  _ I have to get back to work now.  _ "I'll send you the details, then," he tells him, and Louis nods. 

"Alright. Thanks."

Harry nods at him again, and then motions to the shelves in front of him. Louis gives him a knowing, polite smile and goes back to shopping. After walking around the aisles a bit aimlessly, he accepts that he's forgotten the entirety of his shopping list. 

-

Gemma's funeral is small. Heartbreakingly small. There's a few older looking people -- family, probably -- and her grandparents. There's Niall, who Louis identifies based on the Irish accent.  _ How'd you know her? _ he asked Louis when Louis walked inside of the funeral home, after the mass, which was short and impersonal. 

"I was her nurse," he said, looking away from Niall. "Harry asked me to be here." That was more like the truth. 

Besides Niall, there's only three other people Gemma's age, and that's just not fair. He didn't know Gemma very well, but he's sure she was smart and funny and caring, like her siblings. She deserves more than a handful of people showing up to her funeral. He desperately hopes that this is all who were invited, and that's it not that more people were invited and just didn't come. 

Harry and Missy don't leave each other's side the entire time. For the most part, it's Missy climbing all over Harry or tugging at his hand, but Harry's not letting her get very far, either. He needs her company just as much as she needs him. 

Louis mostly sticks to the back of the room, sat down on a chair beside the window. He's got a glass of water wrapped up in his hands just for the sake of looking less awkward than he feels. It's just -- he probably doesn't belong here. If any one of these twelve people come up to him and try to talk to him about Gemma, he'll be exposed as the fraud he is because he doesn't know a thing about her life, except for how it ended. 

He's thinking about what the most polite way to leave would be when Harry comes over to him. He's wearing a regular black suit, and Missy, who is on his hip like a toddler, is wearing a velvet black dress with black little shoes. Nothing like the Hello Kitty that she requested. 

Harry looks so, so sad. Every time Louis sees him and registers just how deep Harry's sadness runs, it's startling. His hair looks half-done, like he gave up in the middle of it, and he looks exhausted. Pale, too. His skin looks like it could melt off his skull any second now. 

Still, he offers Louis a small smile. "Thank you for coming," he says, his hoarse voice giving away the fact that he was crying earlier. Louis saw it. He, along with everyone else except Missy, who wrapped her arms around his arm, ignored it. 

"Of course." He sets his water on the table for something to do, and then regrets it when it leaves his hands empty. "It was a nice service."

Harry shrugs and adjusts his hold on Missy. She looks half asleep; he wonders how much of this she is understanding. "It was alright."

Harry's grandfather comes over and claps his hand over Harry's shoulder. It's rough, if the way Harry startles is anything to go by. "Me and your grandmother are going to get going, I think," he says, and immediately, Harry's face drops. Even Missy looks a little sad.

"You aren't coming to the burial?" Harry asks, clearly hurt. "I thought -- "

"Son, your grandma is feeling tired."

Harry furrows his eyebrows. "It's only going to take a little bit."

"Harry -- "

"You don't want to see your own granddaughter get buried?" Harry snaps. He sets Missy down, and immediately, Missy slumps into his leg. "You agreed that you'd come, you said I wouldn't have to do it by myself, and -- "

"We'll be going now," his grandfather interrupts coldly. He has no sympathy for Harry or his situation. It's almost like this is a burden, or something. "I'll see you soon." He offers Harry a dry smile and ruffles Missy's hair -- actually ruffles it, like that is an appropriate way to say goodbye to a five-year-old and her sister's funeral -- and leaves. Harry watches them go, his face flushed with anger.

"They seem shit," Louis says bluntly, and then immediately wishes he hadn't. It's true, what he said, but he could've at least pretended like he didn't witness that or say it nicer. 

Harry huffs out a laugh and slowly drags his gaze back to Louis. "Just a bit."

A stilted silence falls on them, and he selfishly wishes Harry would go talk to somebody else, or that someone else would come talk to him. He doesn't know what to say. Over and over again, he's reminded that he doesn't actually know this family. And over and over again, he wishes that he did.

"I could come with you," Louis offers after a moment. He had to say  _ something _ . "To the burial, I mean. If you don't want to be alone, I can go."

Harry glances out the window. He sets his hand on Missy's head, and Missy sighs quietly. "I can't ask you to do that."

"It'd be no problem."

"No, Louis, really. It's fine." He gives him a stiff smile, and Louis nods, knowing when he's not wanted. It's not like Harry is just being polite despite what he actually wants, Harry doesn't want him there. And Louis fully understands that. He doesn't take it personally at all. He's not that selfish. 

Harry drifts away to talk with someone else a few minutes later. For the rest of the time Louis' there, he thinks of ways to leave and reasons as to why he has to, but he doesn't actually go until a few more people leave before him. Every time he thinks he's gained the courage to, he remembers how hurt Harry looked as he watched his grandparents leave, and he didn't want that face being made at his retreating back. 

-

He hears from Harry again less than twenty-four hours later through a text. Louis' at work, but it's slow, so he shifts his attention from Perrie trying to throw paperclips into the trash to his phone. 

_ can u come over tonight? _ the text reads. There's another one underneath it.  _ i'm so lonely. don't know why i always bother u about it but will u? _

Louis works until seven, and after a twelve hour shift, he doesn't like to do anything other than sleep, but he can't tell Harry no. He just can't. Harry's not just lonely, he's also almost completely alone, and Louis wants to do anything in his power to make it seem otherwise. 

_ Around 8? _ he texts back. That'll give him enough time to go home and shower before getting to Harry's. 

  1. _thanks._



Louis exhales quietly and puts his phone back on the desk, turning back to Perrie and her paperclips. 

Harry texts Louis beforehand not to knock because Missy's usually asleep by eight, so when Louis gets to their door, he sends Harry a text. There's some quiet shuffling inside before the door opens, and Harry lets him in wordlessly. 

The apartment looks a bit less clean than it did the last time Louis was here, but it's still mostly tidy. There's Nando's wrappers on the coffee table in front of the couch, and next to it, there's two cans of beer, one open and one closed. He doesn't mean to give Harry a look, but he can't help it, not when Harry admitted to having a bit of a drinking problem after his mum's death. 

"It's two beers, calm down," he mumbles, going over to sit down on the couch. He pulls a blanket onto his lap and over his shoulders, and after fishing the remote from in-between the cushions, he gives Louis a tired look. "There's some leftovers in the fridge, if you want. I didn't know if you'd be hungry. . ."

Louis shakes his head and sits down beside Harry. He crammed a ham sandwich down before he came over here. "I already ate, but thank you."

A silence falls over them as Harry clicks through the movie section on Netflix. He looks so tired, and Louis can't help but ache with sympathy. He doesn't like seeing Harry look more and more worn down every time he sees him. It's understandable, but he still hates it. 

"Is this fine?" Harry mumbles, motioning to the TV. A movie called  _ Bedtime Stories _ is highlighted. He remembers watching it once with his younger sisters, and he shrugs, uncaring. 

"Yeah, that's fine."

He clicks it, and the movie starts playing. Harry sighs as he sets the remote down and puts his arms under the blanket. He shifts, just slightly, so he's closer to Louis. 

For the first half hour of the movie, Louis sits there, trying not to fidget. He feels out of place here; not in Harry's company, but, just. Here, right now. He can't help but feel like he should be doing something more. He wants to ask Harry if there's anything he can do for him, but the words keep getting stuck in his throat. 

Louis glances at Harry briefly, and he's caught by surprise when Harry's already looking at him. He doesn't look away when Louis catches him, either, and Louis feels the atmosphere between them shift. He can't tell exactly how it shifted, until Harry shifts closer to him and his hand comes out from under the blankets to grab Louis' cheek. 

There's a fraction of a second that Louis actually considers it. Harry's fit, and messing around with him would give him something to do other than watch the movie, and Harry looks so, so ready for it. The want in his eyes is clear, even in the dark. 

But that fraction of a second passes quickly, because no. Harry's hurting. He just lost his sister -- her funeral was yesterday, for fuck's sake -- and he's lonely. That's all this is. He's lonely and he's hurting and he wants a quick fix. He wants to feel less awful, and Louis wishes he could be the one to make him feel that way, but he can't be. 

Harry kisses him, and Louis pushes him back gently. He goes to explain, but Harry shakes his head. "Don't you dare tell me that I'm not in the right mindset. I'm an adult."

"You're hurting," Louis argues softly, grabbing Harry's hand off his cheek. He moves it away, but he doesn't stop holding it. 

"I don't care," Harry says. "I want someone to fuck me."

That makes Louis cringe, and he lets go of Harry's hand. "You're just lonely, alright."

"It doesn't matter. I want someone to make me feel good." He leans forward again and this time, he kisses Louis' neck. He latches onto a spot just beneath his jaw, sucking a mark there, and Louis goes a bit fuzzy in the head. 

"Harry," he warns, although he doesn't really know why. It feels nice. He wouldn't mind continuing, wouldn't mind it at all, if it wasn't for Harry's situation. He pretends, just for a minute, that things are different, and he closes his eyes. 

But then he pictures Gemma's coffin, and Missy and Harry standing before it just yesterday, and he can't do it. He can't let himself. When Harry's not so sad, maybe they can talk about it more, but right now, Louis can't be this person. 

"Alright, stop," he says sternly. He opens his eyes and pushes Harry's shoulder gently. Harry must get that no amount of pleading is going to get through to Louis, because he sighs loudly and slumps against the couch, shaking his head. After a moment, he fixes the blanket so it's back over his shoulders. 

The silence is undeniably awkward then, and Louis hates it, so he tries to fix it. "I don't feel comfortable doing that sort of stuff when you're sad," Louis explains quietly. "That's all."

"It's fine," Harry mutters, and it sounds very much not fine.

"Harry -- "

"Don't even bother," Harry interrupts. "It's fine. Just leave it."

"Alright," Louis agrees quietly. He looks back to the TV, and he tries to leave it. He does, he really does, it's just -- "Harry," he says again. Harry rolls his eyes and looks down at his lap. "If you. . . If you wanted, maybe we could, like. Cuddle?"

Harry snorts, and Louis thinks he's said something completely stupid that he ought to be embarrassed about, until Harry glances at him, unsure. "That wouldn't be weird?" he asks quietly, and Louis holds back a scoff. Harry just tried to dry hump him, but yeah, a bit of innocent  _ cuddling _ would make it weird. 

"I don't think it has to be," he settles for. Harry's clearly craving comfort, and maybe it's easier for him to receive that physically rather than emotionally. 

It's slightly awkward, the way Harry slowly moves around and tucks his body into the side of Louis'. He's awfully tense, so Louis doesn't move until he relaxes a bit. When he does, Louis drapes his arm around Harry, and Harry presses closer to him, his cheek pillowed against his chest. He lets out a shaky breath. 

"You alright?" Louis asks, squeezing Harry's hip. "If you're uncomfortable -- "

"I'm not," Harry denies quickly. He shakes his head, and Louis thinks he can get used to the way his hair tickles his skin. "I'm not uncomfortable."

Harry must be telling the truth, because within ten minutes, he's fast asleep against Louis. He lets out quiet puffs of air, and Louis wishes silently that his dreams are kind to him. 

Missy wanders into the living room after about a half hour after the movie is over. She doesn't look at them at first, so Louis doesn't say anything; he's not sure if Harry told her he was coming over, and he doesn't want to spook her. She goes to the kitchen and stands on her tip-toes to turn the light on, and then she walks out of Louis' sight. By the noises from the kitchen, she grabs something out the fridge to drink, and when she comes back, a cup in her head, she sees Louis and she pauses.

He thinks she's going to get mad, or cry, or something equally as awful. Instead, all she says is, "He's not supposed to sleep on the couch. It hurts his back."

Louis' hand stills from where it'd been drawing shapes against his back and he lets out a quiet breath of relief. "Oh. Thanks for letting me know. Where is his room? So I can take him?"

"Left of the bathroom,” she says, and then she goes. 

Louis doesn't move at first, because he's pretty sure he's not strong enough to lift Harry and carry him to his room, but he also doesn't want to wake him. He looks so -- not peaceful, but content. And he doesn't want to ruin that. But he also doesn't want Harry to wake up with a hurt back, so he carefully shakes Harry awake. 

Harry sits up slowly and rubs at his eyes. He lets out a quiet sigh before turning to look at Louis. "I didn't mean to fall asleep."

"It's alright," Louis says. "Your sister said you have a bad back, though, and that sleeping on the couch doesn't do it good."

Immediately, Harry looks alarmed. He furrows his eyebrows and looks to the direction of the hallway. "She should be sleeping. Was she crying?" He stands, and before he can get far, Louis grabs his wrist. 

"She was fine," Louis promises. "She was just thirsty."

"Oh." He nods once before running his hand through his hair, and he leans down to grab the beer cans off the table. Louis listens to him when he goes to the kitchen and pours one of them out and puts the other back in the fridge, and when he comes back, he looks hesitant. 

"Are you staying the night?" he asks quietly. "I can grab you a pillow and blanket, or -- or you can sleep in my room. Either way, like. It's fine with me. Or you can go home, obviously, but it's pretty dark outside, so, um." He shrugs before biting down on his lip. 

It's obvious Harry wants him to stay. Louis can work that bit out, but he can't tell if Harry would rather him sleep on the couch or with him in his room (or  _ why _ ). He stares at Harry, trying to figure it out, and then he decides that he should probably sleep with him on his bed. If Harry does want him there, and Louis picks the couch over him, he might feel rejected, and Louis doesn't want that. 

"I'll sleep in your room, if you don't mind the fact that my alarm will be going off at four-thirty."

Harry cringes. "Fuck, that's early." He seems to regret what he says, because he quickly backtracks. "I don't mind, though. It's okay. It won't bother me."

"Alright." He stands and motions Harry to start walking. "Lead the way, then."

Missy was wrong: Harry's room is on the right of the bathroom, not the left, and as Harry twists open the door, he's about to tell Harry that he needs to teach his sister the difference between left and right, but the words get caught in his throat before he can. 

This was Gemma's bedroom. 

"I'm going to go check on Missy," Harry says, brushing passed Louis, who stands there, a bit stunned.

There's a vanity near the door, and there's still make up spread across it. A few feet rightwards from that, there's a dresser, and there's perfumes and lotions on top of it. Louis walks in further, and there's a pretty red dress hung on the back of the door, and about a dozen shoes lined up by the wall. Some of them are heels, some of them are flats, some of them are sneakers and boots. 

For a frantic moment, Louis tries to convince himself that maybe he doesn't know Harry all that well, because believing Harry likes wearing heels doesn't hurt his heart like the idea of Harry having to sleep in his dead sister's room does, and then Louis sees a 'G' hung up above the bed, and he knows he has to stop being an idiot. 

He remembers Harry telling him that Missy likes to sleep with him at night. He thinks he understands that a bit better now. 

Harry comes back, and he flicks the light off and heads for the bed. He must know what Louis is thinking, and Louis thinks it'd be wrong of him not to say anything. He goes to the opposite side of the bed that Harry's laying on and settles underneath the covers before turning to him. 

"I'm sorry you have to sleep in here," he says quietly, and he hates the way it comes out. 

Harry shrugs. "It's okay. I've gotten used to it. I mean, I'd wish I could just sleep on the couch, but my back can't handle it." His fingers pull on the edge of the light purple pillow cases before he rolls over and grabs something off the nightstand. He comes back with a stuffed elephant in his hands -- it's hard to make out in the dark, but Louis can see it's trunk. "Missy says Gemma slept with this at night. I bought for her at the zoo a long time ago."

Louis doesn't know what to do, so he reaches out to touch the stuffed animal's fur. It's still soft. 

"I'm pretty sure that means she missed me," Harry whispers quietly, ashamed. He runs his finger over the elephant's ear. "I didn't visit outside of holidays. It was too hard seeing how much Gemma had to take care of, and I know how selfish that is. I know that now." His voice catches when he says, "I wish I helped her more. She probably needed so much help, and she probably felt so alone in everything, and I was in America getting plastered every night with my mates."

"Harry. . ."

"I called her every day," Harry says, ignoring Louis. His voice sounds thick with emotion now. "And I texted her a lot. But I don't think that counts for anything anymore."

"Of course it does. Of course it does, Harry."

Harry shakes his head. "I don't think it does. I think if it did, she would've told me she was sick sooner. Or I would've realized sooner." He lets out a shaky, pained breath as he pulls his knees up close to his chest. "I regret so much. I would've done so many things differently."

"That's not fair to yourself. You couldn't have planned for this," Louis says softly.

Harry releases another shaky breath before reaching out to grab Louis' arm. He doesn't do anything other than hold it, but Louis' pretty sure that means he wants Louis to hold him again and doesn't know how to ask, so Louis carefully scoots closer and raises his arm so Harry can tuck himself back into his side. He's scared he read him wrong for a moment, and then Harry does just that. 

With one arm around the elephant and one arm around Louis' waist, Harry says, "My mates from America are going to start shipping my things here. The stuff that's easy to box, obviously."

"That'll be good." He strokes his fingers over Harry's shoulder, and he realizes that he didn't actually see anything of Harry's in the room when he was looking around. "How much stuff did you bring with you?"

"Only, like, three outfits and a pair of shoes." He lets out a tight laugh. "I didn't want to jinx anything by packing anything more."

"Let me go shopping for you," Louis pleads, because he can't handle knowing Harry doesn't have _ anything _ . That's not right, and Harry deserves so much more. "Write down your sizes and I'll go buy you a few more things for you to wear until your other clothes get here."

He expects Harry to protest, but he doesn't. "Okay," he says weakly. "You have to let me pay for it, though."

"Alright," he says, even though he already knows he's going to lie about how much everything cost and throw away the receipt. "Just make me a list and I'll go out and get everything for you, alright? I'll go tomorrow after work."

"You don't have to do it so soon. I'll be okay."

Louis ignores him. "Write me a list," he repeats, and Harry nods against his chest and mumbles out an okay. 

-

The next morning, he wakes fifteen minutes before his alarm goes off, and Harry's leg is thrown over his waist and he's snoring softly into the fur of the stuffed elephant.

-

Harry's list reads as following:

\- underwear (small)

\- pajama pants / sweatpants (guess)

\- a few plain t-shirts (large/extra large)

\- socks (large)

\- a Mars Bar for Missy :)

After Louis got the text, he texted Harry and asked him if he needed any jeans -- he remembered Harry wearing them at Tesco's -- and Harry sent back,  _ I have a stupidly small waist so it's too hard to shop for without me trying them on. Don't worry about it xxx. _

Louis thought that was madly endearing, and he finds himself smiling about it again as he passes the jeans section in Asda. His first choice for basic clothing would probably be Tesco's, but Harry works there, so he could find out quite easily if Louis lied about how much everything cost. 

He picks out mostly basic things for Harry, because he's not sure what Harry likes to wear. He buys two pairs of gray sweatpants and a generic pair of plaid pajama pants, boring looking socks (and then a different set of more fun socks, because one pair had dogs on it), a few white and black t-shirts and then normal looking boxers. 

And he knows he shouldn't overstep and buy anything other than what Harry asked for, but he can't help himself from buying a few other things, like a box of popsicles and a coloring book and some markers for Missy. He'd grab something fun for Harry, too, but Louis doesn't know what would make him smile, so he decides to leave it. 

He gets to Harry's flat around eight-thirty, so he texts his knock and waits for Harry to answer the door. After a few seconds, the door opens, and Harry's there, giving him a smile. 

As Harry takes everything out of the bags, Louis watches him. "You  _ do _ have a small waist," he decides, as he stares down at Harry, who's crouching down to shuffle through the bags. Harry looks up at him and grins. 

God, he has a gorgeous smile. 

Later on, Harry's folding laundry on the couch and Louis' watching him with half-open eyes. He's exhausted, but he doesn't want to leave just yet. He plans on staying the night again, unless Harry asks him to leave. He left a pair of scrubs in his car and everything so he wouldn't have to go home before work in the morning. 

Harry's folding a pair of socks together when he glances at Louis. He frowns. "You look tired, Lou."

Louis sits up, trying to pretend otherwise. "I'm not. I'm okay."

"I feel like I'm asking too much from you," Harry says, and Louis wishes he'd stop sounding so guilty or ashamed all the time. "You don't have to help us, you know. I'd understand. I know you're probably doing it because you think I don't have anyone else, but I," he looks down, "I have other people I can reach out to, too. Please don't feel like you have to help me."

"I want to be here for you," Louis tells him, giving him a small smile. "And I want you to know that you can tell me to fuck off at anytime, too. If I do something that pushes it, tell me."

Harry doesn't say anything for about a minute, and then he looks up. There are tears in his eyes, and he sniffles. "My grandparents came over today, and Missy told them that you were over again last night, and they said that I shouldn't latch onto you just because I'm lonely and you're the only one giving me a little bit of attention. And I -- I hope it doesn't feel like that to you."

"Why are you grandparents such dicks?" Louis snaps, and Harry lets out a wet laugh. Louis reaches out to grab his hand and squeezes it.

"They don't want me handing off my responsibilities to anyone else," he says, bringing his other hand over to rest on top of Louis'. He rubs over his wrist. 

"You shouldn't have to handle everything by yourself," Louis tells him. "That's not fair. Not on top of everything else."

Harry shakes his head. "Missy's a good kid. It's not too hard."

"Harry," Louis says sternly, because they both know that's not the truth. Missy can be a handful, and that doesn't mean that she's not a good kid, it just means that she's a  _ kid. _ Kids are hard to deal with. "Don't sell yourself short. You're working hard to take care of her. You should be proud of yourself."  _ Gemma would be proud _ , he wants to say, but he doesn't. 

"I want to know more about you," Harry says. "Like, you know all this stuff about me. All the shitty parts, anyway. And I feel like I don't know anything about you, and I want to know everything."

So Louis tells him everything. Tries to, anyway, because twenty two years is a lot to cover. He tells Harry all about his siblings and his mum, and Harry's eyes water as Louis talks about her, and he apologizes profusely and tells Louis to continue. Louis does, finishing up his story about her quickly before changing topics. He talks about how much of a shithead he was in school, and then about how he mellowed out a bit in nursing school because he was too tired to be annoying. 

And if he slips in a story or two about his ex-boyfriend from uni to let Harry know that he's into guys, well. He hopes it doesn't make him a terrible person. 

Harry falls asleep on his chest again that night. 

-

About two weeks later, Harry falls apart on him, a little bit. 

Louis can't even say he wasn't expecting it. The last two times he went over to Harry's, he was more quiet and clingy than normal. Missy was being a bit grumpy as well, so Louis figured that Missy was just acting up and getting on Harry's nerves, and that everything was okay. 

When he wakes to the noise of Harry crying in the kitchen, he knows that's not true. 

The sobs Harry's letting out sound explosive, and Louis hopes that Missy can't hear them from behind her shut door. Louis gets out of bed as quickly and quietly as he can, and when Louis gets to the kitchen, he sees Harry sitting on the floor, crying with his head in his hands. 

He's about to ask him what's wrong, but he swallows down the words before it's too late. That's a dumb question to ask. So he sits on the floor beside Harry, not yet touching him, and Harry is quick to grab his arm and tug him closer. His cries are quieter when they're being released into Harry's shoulder, and Louis' thankful. 

He rubs his back and tells him that he's okay, and that Missy's okay, and that he's doing his best, and his best is good enough. He figures one of those has to be part of why Harry's so upset. A few days ago, Harry told him that he's worried about Missy going to school, because she's going to realize how much more the other kids have than her. 

"I just keep imagining her having to draw a family portrait, or something," Harry told him, eyes watering. "All she's going to be able to draw is me."

Harry cries into his chest until he's reduced to quiet little hiccups every once in a while, and Louis doesn't stop rubbing his back until Harry pulls back and wipes at his face. He lets out a tired breath before starting to stand. Louis quickly helps him, even though he doesn't need it, and Harry gives him a brief appreciative smile as he goes over to the sink to fill a cup with water. He drinks it quietly, and once he's done, he looks at Louis, eyes tired. 

"You have to be up for work in four hours," Harry says quietly. "We should probably go back to sleep." 

He walks past Louis and heads to his room, and Louis follows, pushing down the feeling in his chest that comes when he realizes that Harry knows his routine already. Harry's already pulling the covers over his chest as Louis enters the room. He shuts the door behind him before getting back into bed, his spot no longer warm. 

For a few minutes, Louis stares at Harry staring at the ceiling. Finally, he decides to say something. "Is there anything I can do to make anything less shit for you?"

Harry makes a noise close to a snort. He doesn't say anything for a long moment, and then he says, "We're almost out of shampoo again. I swear, Missy uses, like, half the bottle every night. They don't sell the kind she likes at Tesco's."

"I can get it for her." He doesn't mind, and he doesn't like the idea of Harry going out of his way to stop at a shop after work, which would keep Missy at her grandparents even longer than she has to be. He clears his throat. "But, like. Anything else? Not just small things. We could. . . we could talk about it."

"We talk about it all the time."

And, well. That's true. But Louis' pretty sure it helps Harry, so he doesn't care how often they have these conversations. 

"I just do that sometimes," Harry says quietly. 

Louis bites on his lip. "Often?"

"Sometimes," Harry repeats, shaking his head. "Sometimes, like. Sometimes I can't pretend like everything's okay, and I need to -- let it all out, I guess." He shrugs and turns to Louis. "Don't know. Sorry."

"Nobody is asking you to pretend like you're okay," Louis tells him, and immediately, Harry scoffs. He twists so he's on his side, facing Louis, and his fingers clutch to the top of the blanket. 

"Missy needs me to be okay." He sighs quietly and presses his face deeper into the pillow. "I'm just dealing with this all the best I can."

"Yeah, well, you're doing a bloody good job so far." 

And he is. A ton of pressure was put on Harry all at once, and so far, he's taken it like he was made for it. He cries, and he's beyond devastated, and he feels like failure, but he also got a job. He organized his sister's funeral all by himself. He's been taking care of a five year old with barely any help. And if he can do all that and only needs to explode into a fit of tears occasionally, well. Louis' pretty sure that's the best case scenario. 

"I don't think I could do this without you," Harry admits quietly, letting out another shaky breath. "And I know that's probably really stupid, and, like, totally unfair to you. I just met you, but I feel like. . . I feel like that helps." He sniffs and shrugs, like he's trying to look like he's just thinking out loud when Louis can see that he's actually thought hard about this. "You not knowing them helps, I think. Because you're just," his voice cracks, "you're just here for me, and nobody else. And that probably sounds really fucking selfish, but -- "

"It doesn't," Louis says, because it really, really doesn't. Harry wants to be taken care of, and Louis' the only one giving him any sort of attention. The kind he wants, anyway. And that should make Louis feel a bit put off, maybe, like he's being used, but he's too busy trying to stop himself from reaching out to take Harry's hand and squeeze it to think about it much. 

-

Harry doesn't start struggling too terribly again until a few weeks later. 

Louis can see it, every time he walks through the door. Pieces of Harry are gradually fading away; some are tiny, like how the boxes of his stuff from uni stay by the door, untouched, for weeks, while others are large, like how he goes completely silent on Louis and looks seconds away from crumbling whenever Missy asks him for something. It's worrying, although Harry's still doing what he needs to be doing, so Louis doesn't push him to do anything else.

He doesn't realize quite how bad Harry's doing until he gets a rare moment alone with Missy and she spills everything to him. Harry's out, grabbing take-out even though Louis offered to grab it on his way over, and as soon as the door shuts, Missy sighs loudly. 

"We always get take-out now," she says grumpily, scrunching her face up at Louis like he's the cause of it. They're both sitting on the couch, and she has a coloring book on her lap. 

Louis doesn't think ordering out for food often is a crime, especially since Harry's working now, so he just gives her a small smile. 

"He got mad at me yesterday." She's quiet, now, like she's still upset about it. The look on her face shows that she is. "I just wanted to sleep in bed with him."

Louis' heart breaks a little, and he gives her another smile, this one a little more sad. "I'm sorry, Miss. But he probably needs space, you know? Not from you, but just. . . Sometimes people need a break."

"He doesn't talk to me much anymore. He never wants to play." She gets up off the couch and goes over to the dining table. She grabs a box off the table and hands it to Louis. It's Connect 4. He takes it, unsure what she wants from him. "Niall got that for me but Harry wouldn't open it and I can't reach the scissors." She stumbles over the last word, but Louis doesn't correct her on it. "And I would use a chair, but Gemma said that I can't do that."

"No, you shouldn't do that," Louis agrees. He stands and pats her head before asking where the scissors are, and she shows him. As he uses them to cut off the plastic film around the box, she watches him excitedly and grabs a hold of the pocket on his sweats.

"Will you play it with me?" she asks, eyes wide. "Please?"

Louis nods immediately. "Of course."

"I don't know the rules." She looks upset, like that's going to annoy Louis, or something, and Louis wonders how strong Harry's patience has been with her lately. Probably not very. And not for a second does Louis think he's doing it on purpose; he probably just needs a little more help than they initially thought, and that's fine. 

"I'll teach you, love," Louis promises softly. 

As Louis sets up the game, he can't help but poke and prod at certain subjects more than he ought to. Missy tells him what he needs to hear, though; that Harry is quiet and always in his room and constantly exhausted. Harry keeps getting into arguments with their grandparents, and even with Niall, the other day. 

"And does -- " Louis hesitates, not knowing how to approach the subject. "Does he seem a little sad, sometimes?"

She nods, looking too serious for a child. "He goes into the bathroom when he's sad. But I can still hear him."

"He's okay, though," he tells her quickly. "Like, he's alright. You don't have to worry about him. That's not your job."

"Grandma says that too, but." She shrugs, reaching forward to grab one of the pieces of the game. She holds it in her hand, playing with it distractedly. 

He doesn't have time to ask anymore questions, because Harry gets back with the Chinese food. He gives them a flimsy smile while he toes his shoes off at the door, not even trying to make it look genuine, and he walks towards the kitchen table. 

"Come on, Miss," he says, sounding tired. "Come show me what you want."

She pouts at him. "But me and Louis are playing a game."

"Missy, love." He lets out a long, loud sigh. "Come here. You can play your game in a second."

She gets up with a sigh, probably mocking Harry's, and goes to the kitchen. Louis watches them from the couch, idly putting together the game still; Harry lifts her up and puts points at the boxes, showing her and telling her which each one is. She doesn't seem too picky, which he can tell Harry appreciates. 

Missy comes back with her plate of food, and Louis has the game set up. She seems excited, and he hopes she doesn't get too disappointed -- Connect 4 is not a very exciting game. She doesn't seem to mind it though. It's something new for her to do. 

Harry watches them quietly from beside Louis on the couch. Missy's sitting on the floor so she can reach her side of the board better, even though Louis' taller and should probably be the one on the floor because he wouldn't have to reach as much as she does. Harry looks exhausted, and he's frowning. 

Louis nudges him gently. Harry glances at him. "You gonna eat?" he asks, watching Missy take her turn. She wants to win, he can tell, because every time it's her turn, she looks like she's thinking even harder than she was before. 

Harry shakes his head. "Not really hungry. Think I'm just gonna go to bed, if I'm honest."

It's Louis' turn; he quickly grabs a blue chip off the tabletop and slides it into place, cutting off Missy's attempt at lining four up. She pouts. "You should probably eat something. Even if it's something small."

Harry shrugs. "Maybe."

He won't, Louis knows he won't, so he lets Missy win as soon as he can, and as she's taking the chips out of the board so they can play again, Louis goes to the kitchen to fix Harry and himself a plate. He doesn't give Harry too much -- if Harry's not actually hungry, that's fine, he's not going to force-feed him -- and gives himself a decent portion before putting the food in the fridge so Harry doesn't have to do it later. 

Harry gives him a small smile when he comes back with the two plates, and he thanks Louis quietly as he hands him his plate. While he eats, Missy and Louis play their second round, and this time, he beats her. He feels a little bad for it afterwards, but the opening she left him was too hard to ignore. Missy pouts, although she doesn't actually seem too upset. 

"I have to pee," she says, "and then we'll play again."

Louis smiles at her as she stands and goes. 

As soon as they hear the bathroom door click shut, Harry asks, "When does your schedule look like this week?"

"I work Monday, Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday. Why?"

Harry shrugs before leaning forward to place his mostly empty plate on the table. He leans back against the couch and runs his hand through his hair. He's not looking at Louis. "Was thinking about seeing someone this week. Like, a grief counselor. Need someone to look after Missy for a few hours, and I don't want my grandparents or Niall to know why."

Louis' surprised, but he doesn't show it. "Of course," he says quickly. "Yeah. Whenever. Just let me know." 

Harry nods and smiles thinly at him before looking off to the side again. Louis can't work out if he's embarrassed or if he's that tired. "Was thinking Friday, after work. I could drop her off at yours if it'd be easier for you."

"That's fine," Louis agrees. It'd probably be easier if he came over to Harry's; the food she likes is here, her toys and games are here, her cat is here. But it'd be better for Missy to be somewhere that's not here for a change. There's no way she doesn't want to get out of the flat for a bit.

Missy comes back a few seconds later, and then is sent back after Harry tells her that there's no way she had time to wash her hands. And then she's back again and waving her now-clean hands at Harry. Harry only gives her a tired smile in return. 

Louis and Missy through another round, Harry watching them distractedly, before Louis tells Harry to go to bed. He protests at first, but Louis promises him he can handle getting Missy to bed by himself. 

"You don't even have to sleep, if you don't want to," Louis says. "You can just lie down for a little while and relax. Go on your phone, call a friend, I don't know. Just give yourself a break." 

"That's stupid. You work more than I do."

Louis gives him a look. He'd point out the obvious -- he's not grieving, he's not taking care of his kid sister, he's not handling an immense amount of pressure and stress like Harry is -- but he doesn't want to say anything in front of Missy. Harry gets the message anyway and nods. 

"Alright," he says, standing slowly. He presses a kiss to Missy's head and tells her to listen to Louis and she waves him off and says he's getting in the way of her game. "Goodnight, Miss. Night, Lou."

"Night," Missy says, not looking at him. She's staring at Louis. "It's your turn."

Harry gives him an appreciative smile and squeezes his shoulder before disappearing down the hallway. Louis hopes he uses this time to sleep, because he looks like he could really use it. 

Louis shoos Missy to bed about an hour and a half later, and once her teeth have been brushed and she's content, he leaves her room and heads to Harry's. The light's off, so Louis hopes that means he's sleeping. And he is; Harry's asleep with his face tucked against the side of Louis' pillow ( _ Louis' pillow,  _ God, that sounds so stupid, given how long they've known each other, but that is the pillow Louis always sleeps with now) and his eyes are shut. Louis slips into bed next to him, careful not to make too much noise or move around too much. Harry doesn't wake, not completely. Just enough to shift so his head is resting against Louis' and their legs are pressed together. 

-

As the weeks pass, they slowly start to separate. 

Between both of them working, there was already small amounts of time they could spend together, and eventually, Harry stopped immediately grabbing for it. He started going to counselling every week, and then he got Missy in to see someone as well, even though his grandparents thought he was hurting Missy by making her think there was something wrong with her. And Missy gradually got happier and wanted to go out more, which at first included Louis, but eventually it didn't anymore. So between everything that Harry had to juggle, Louis kind of got pushed to the sidelines. 

It's okay. It's natural. Harry barely knew Louis, and he was clinging to him because he didn't have anyone else, and now he's at the place where he doesn't need anyone. (Kind of. If Louis is being truthful, it's not like Harry's okay. He's not. He still looks worn too thin and sad whenever they do make time to see each other. It's not that he stopped needing someone, it's that he stopped needing someone as much. And now, whenever he does want someone to just be with him, he doesn't feel as comfortable reaching out. He's in a place now that he has enough energy to be embarrassed about his grief. He told Louis that the last time they went out to lunch, and Louis guesses that's why he's barely heard from him at all in the last few weeks.) 

It's not like Louis feels used, or sidelined, or like he lost someone. Because that'd be selfish, wouldn't it? He knew that he was there to comfort Harry and nothing more. Yeah, he thought they became friends over that time, and they have, just. . . not as close as Louis thought, he supposes. And it's okay, it is, because at the end of the day, Harry is still an orphan with a child to take care of all by himself, and anything he does or says or feels is justified. Harry doesn't have to give Louis a reason as to why he only calls him once a week now, and why he stopped texting him good morning and good night, and why they only see each other maybe twice a month. 

The distance between them makes Louis so fucking grateful that he pushed Harry away when Harry wanted to have sex that night. If Louis had indulged Harry, had indulged  _ himself, _ they could be at very different places right now. He was right to believe Harry wasn’t in the right mindset for sex, because now they barely see each other. If he had fucked him that night like Harry said he wanted, Harry would probably feel taken advantage of by now, or at the least he'd think less of Louis. And no, Louis doesn't think he's some hero for denying a person who recently their sister of sex, but he is grateful that he did it for more selfish reasons. 

At the beginning of September, just before Missy's due to finally start school, Louis texts Harry a general,  _ Hey, how are you? _ text. The last time he saw Harry in person was about a month and a half ago, and he mentioned that he didn't feel ready to take on that added stress. Getting Missy to school every morning, arranging someone to pick her up every afternoon, handling homework and getting her ready and the inevitable play dates that'll start up soon. So Louis just wants to check-in, and he was smart to, because he has an hour-long discussion over the phone with Harry that night about how unprepared he feels. 

"I've managed to do okay this long," Harry says, "but this will be the ultimate test, it feels like. And I'm not going to lie, I'm scared. And it fucking sucks, knowing that if Gemma were here, she'd have everything under control and ready to go. My mum would, too. Just feels like there's no way I could possibly do as good of a job as either of them would." He sighs quietly, and Louis gets the feeling that maybe he doesn't want any advice or an offer of help, he just wants to be listened to, so he stays quiet. 

Harry clears his throat. "You know, I was talking to her the other day, just. . . just talking to her, about stuff. And she doesn't really remember our mum. Like, at all. She was trying to hide it, I could tell. I think she was worrying about, like, upsetting me. But I started asking her about things, like, that Mum would do or say, and she doesn't remember any of it, I could tell. She tried lying, but she -- she barely remembers her, Lou, and that _ sucks.  _ That  _ hurts. _ And she's -- she's probably not going to remember Gemma very much either, which, like, what the _ fuck, _ you know? That's not fucking fair." He sounds breathless and tired when he says, "None of this is fucking fair."

He asks Louis if he'd be up for drinks tomorrow night a few minutes later, and he says that Niall is going to have Missy for the night at his, and he makes it very, very clear that if they get too pissed, they can call a cab and go to Harry's because Missy won't be home. Missy won't be home. He says that probably five times, and Louis kind of wants to laugh at him and tell him that he understands what Harry's getting at, what he wants, but he doesn't, just in case that he's read the situation wrong. 

He's not stupid, though. Harry repeatedly saying that Missy won't be home all night is the equivalent of telling your sixth form crush that your parents are gone for the weekend. 

The following day at work, he wonders if he's got it wrong, if he's stupid for thinking that he's going to fuck Harry tonight (and if he's stupid to want to), but when he gets inside the pub and sees Harry at the bar wearing tight black jeans and a button-up top that probably shouldn't be considered a button-up considering half the buttons are undone, he knows he read Harry’s signs right. 

For a second, Louis stands there and watches the side of Harry, who's talking to the bartender, and he wonders if it's weird that he's not nervous. It's just. It's Harry. And any nerves he is feeling right now will be drowned out by the alcohol, so he makes his way over to Harry and sits beside him at the bar. 

Every time Louis sees him, the first thing he thinks is,  _ God, he looks so tired, _ and tonight isn't any different. He looks healthy otherwise, though, and he looks happy, judging by the smile he gives Louis as he hugs him and squeezes his elbow as he pulls back. 

The conversation, like always, starts with Missy-related things. She's excited to start school in four days, and Harry's worried that excitement will immediately be shot down when she realizes how long she'll be away from home and away from people she's familiar with. And then they start talking about Harry and how he's doing, and the answer, like normal, is  _ decent. _ He doesn't ever lie and say he's doing good. 

"It feels like I still haven't properly processed everything, to be honest," Harry says, looking down at his drink. "Think it'll hit me soon, but." He shrugs and looks up again, smiling a bit. "Doesn't matter right now. I'll deal with it when the time comes, I suppose. How are you, though? Haven't seen you in a minute."

And now comes the time where Louis tries to make it seem like he does other things besides work, which is hard to do considering it's a lie. He goes out sometimes, yes, but when he does, it's always with his co-workers, so that doesn't seem like it'd count. Harry doesn't mind, though. He doesn't find Louis boring, and he never has. He sits patiently and listens contently, and he asks questions about things he probably doesn't care about. 

It goes on like that for a little while, and neither of them realize how much they've had to drink until they're heading to the bathroom together and walking seems a tad more difficult than it did an hour ago. They aren't drunk-drunk, just drunk, and they leave for Harry's flat after they get out of the bathroom, because Harry says he's pretty sure he'll puke if he has any more. 

"Haven't drank like that in a while," Harry tells him, scooting to the middle of the taxi, so he's closer to Louis. "Feels good, though. Like. I don't know." He looks nervous, even with the amount of margaritas he had. Louis has a hard time believing he's the type of person to get nervous over, but Harry's probably remembering the last time, when Louis rejected him. 

Harry squints at him. "You're not  _ too _ hammered, are you?"

"No, not at all," Louis says quickly, probably too quickly. It seems to relax Harry a bit, although probably not enough. Louis reaches over to grab Harry's hand and squeezes, and Harry's eyes light up as his cheeks darken with a slight red. Louis lowers his voice to a whisper when he says, "You won't be taking advantage when you try to seduce me at your flat."

Harry rolls his eyes and hits his shoulder, laughing. "Don't be annoying," he says, pouting a bit. He leans forward and softly says, "Was scared you'd say no to me again." 

"No. Don't think I could do that twice."

Harry grins. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Harry leans closer and kisses him, and Louis kisses back with just as much urgency as Harry, even though he feels slightly bad for the cab driver. Kissing in the backseat is probably rude, but they most certainly aren't the first ones to do it, and they're also only a few blocks from Harry's flat. 

Harry's desperate, that much is obvious, and it only takes them about two minutes to get naked on the couch. It's weird, a bit, considering he's sat on this couch with Missy before, but Harry doesn't want to do it in Gemma's old room for obvious reasons, and they're too drunk to risk fucking in the shower. Harry's grabby and impatient and  _ loud, _ God. 

"Haven't been fucked since America," Harry tells him breathlessly, scratching at Louis' shoulder as Louis slips a second finger into Harry. "Was so fucking easy, I'd just -- ah, fuck -- I'd just say something,  _ anything, _ and everyone would eat it up, they were -- so fucking easy. God, Louis."

Louis ducks down to kiss him again, and he's already used to the way Harry bites at his bottom lip. He's a bit frisky, Louis' slowly learning. He likes to scratch and bite and his hair tugged. 

The entire night (or, more accurately, the entire five minutes it takes for Harry to come), Louis tries to learn as much as he can about Harry. How he feels, how he sounds, how he tastes. His tattoos have no real pattern to them, they're kind of placed everywhere like a jar of ink spilled, and Louis would have taken the time to kiss them all, but Harry shoved at his shoulder and told him to just fuck him already.

Afterwards, when they've cleaned up and relocated to Harry's bedroom and Harry's snoring softly with his head pillowed on Louis' shoulder, Louis lies awake thinking. Tonight almost felt too easy, and yet when they wake, everything's going to be a lot harder. If Harry wakes and the distance between them is still there, and he's supposed to leave and hear from Harry in a month or so, that'll break his heart. He feels stupid for complicating everything for a five minute fuck, even if it was a good one. A great one. And with a great person. 

For now, though. For at least tonight, he's back in Harry's bed, and he tries to hold onto that as he falls asleep beside him.

-

Things do get more complicated, and it's not entirely because of the sex. Half of it is, while the other half is because Missy's in school and Harry's more stressed than ever, and he doesn't quite know where Louis fits anymore. 

"It's, like," Harry starts one night, in the beginning days of October. They've seen each other more in the last month than they have the few months before that. Harry's not looking at him, and he's keeping his voice low because Missy is asleep in her room. She threw a proper tantrum tonight, and Harry looked so overwhelmed that Louis stepped in. He thought it was harmless, but Harry didn't like it at all. Neither did Missy. "I don't even know. You're not just a mate anymore, and now I feel weird being so needy."

Louis frowns at Harry, who's laying on the couch. Louis' sitting near his feat. "We've only had sex a few times, H. That doesn't mean we have to be, like, boyfriends now, not if you aren't ready for that. I can still just be a friend."

"No, you can't," Harry says slowly as he sits up, putting his weight on his elbows. "I think we started off weird, and because of that, everything else is going to be weird. I mean, our dynamic feels so one-sided."

"How so?"

Harry gives him a look. "I cry, like, every time I see you. And I've never seen you cry once."

"I don't have anything to cry about," Louis says, confused. 

Harry sighs and lays back down. He's quiet for a few seconds before he says, "I'm way more vulnerable in front of you than you are in front of me, and that sucks."

"It's not like I'm keeping things from you or something," Louis defends, sitting up straighter. He doesn't like this. Doesn't like feeling this way. 

"I know you aren't, that's not what I'm saying."

Louis sighs. 

"It's just, like." Harry pauses, and then he says, "You're always going to look at me and pity me. I'm always going to be the dude with the dead sister that plopped himself into your life, and, like. I don't know. I don't even know."

"I don't know either, Haz." 

Harry sits up again, this time properly, and squints at Louis. He looks confused. And tired. Always tired. "It feels like you're always going to have the upper hand, or something. And we've already messed up being friends, and if -- if we were to date, I feel like I'd be a shit boyfriend right now. That's why I tried, like, pushing you away for a bit. I thought I could handle dating you when I asked you to go out for drinks with me, and now I feel like I've rushed myself too much."

"So we stay friends for now," Louis tells him. He doesn't like Harry thinking Louis' in some position of power here, but he doesn't know how to articulate that, so he leaves it for now. 

"But I want to be more than that," Harry says softly.

"Friends with benefits," Louis adjusts, and it makes Harry frown.

"That's the same thing as dating, just without the label."

Louis tries not to be irritated. Harry's going through a rough time right now. He's lost so many people, and he doesn't have many people he can count on in his life. He's under a lot of stress; it's okay if he doesn't have everything figured out just yet. Louis just wishes the stuff he couldn't figure out didn't have to do with him. 

"I don't know what you want from me, Harry," Louis says, gently. He's not going to shame Harry for being unsure about what he wants. He's not that type of person. 

"I don't either," Harry mumbles. He sighs and shifts so he's sitting beside Louis, and he makes himself small against Louis' side. Louis wants to tell him that that's probably not helping him figure it out, but instead he wraps his arm around Harry. "You just don't fit anywhere right now," Harry says quietly. "I don't have any room for you, even though I want to."

"That's alright," Louis whispers, even though it doesn't  _ feel _ very much alright. "Focus on yourself right now. You and Missy are the only things that matter right now. I get that."

Harry's fingers fist the front of Louis' shirt. "But I felt so lonely without you being here all the time. You're, like, the only friend I have here, besides Niall."

"We can still be friends, Harry. Like how we were during summer."

"We barely talked in the summer. I didn't like that."

God, Harry doesn't know what the fuck he wants, and it's making everything so confusing and jumbled, but it's okay. It's alright. Louis can be patient. "We can talk more this time. We can, like, call each other every night and talk. And maybe we can hang out, sometimes. But I think you need some time to figure everything out, and that's okay."

"But it's almost been a year," Harry whispers, and it sounds like that terrifies him. Louis presses his fingers against Harry's hip. "Shouldn't I have my shit together by now?"

"There's not a time limit on things like grief," Louis says. "Let yourself heal first. Figure out your life in London more. It's okay. You're not, like, disappointing me or anything."

Harry snorts quietly. "Are you going to wait for me?" he asks, and he makes it sound like a joke, like he doesn't actually expect Louis to avoid dating while Harry heals. 

Louis matches the tone and scoffs as he says, "Well, it's not like I was getting it from anyone in the first place. I haven't been on a proper date in years." He will wait for Harry, and he hopes he knows that. It feels too stupid to say out loud, sounds like a gushy Hallmark movie. But he will, partly because it's not like he has many other options anyway, and mostly because he genuinely enjoys being around Harry. And if Harry gets through these next few months and realizes he doesn't want Louis as a boyfriend at all, Louis will have to be okay with that, because being just friends with Harry was more than okay for the better half of a year, and he wouldn't want to lose that. 

The following day, Louis goes home and Harry lightheartedly promises to try and sort his shit out as soon as possible.

-

They do end up talking on the phone every night. And the nights that Louis works, they arrange to talk in the mornings. Sometimes they have nothing to say to each other, and sometimes they talk for an hour about absolutely everything. It's nice, especially when he can actually hear Harry relaxing and calming down from the day as their conversation goes on. Some nights Harry can't relax, some nights Harry cries because he feels so swallowed by grief that he can't breathe, and those nights suck, but Louis tries his best to do what he can for Harry, and Harry doesn't ask for anything more.

It goes on like that for a few months. They end up spending New Years together, which wasn't a fun night at all because Harry was so heartbroken and distraught that Louis ended up calling Niall and asking him to take Missy for the night. The way Harry's hand shook that night crushed Louis' heart. 

At the end of January, Harry invites Louis to his birthday party. It's the first time in a long time that he's invited Louis anywhere other than Harry's flat, so Louis is hopeful that it means Harry has room for Louis now.

"It's at Niall's, and it was his idea, and I only know a few of his friends, so I'm a little stressed about it," Harry says, "so if you could come, I'd really appreciate it." He sounds nervous, like he fully expects Louis to say no. "Um, if I'm being completely honest, it's, like, barely my birthday party. Pretty much only me and Niall are calling it that, I think. Like I said, I barely know anyone he's inviting. But, um. I think, like. I think I'd like spending my birthday with someone who actually gives a crap about me."

"Of course I'll be there," Louis says, not liking the way Harry sounds insecure. "I'll get someone to cover my shift and it'll be fine. We'll have fun, yeah?"

"I bloody hope so," Harry whispers. Faintly, Louis hears a tiny voice say something in the background, and then Harry lets out a breathy laugh as he says, "And Missy says that if you come to my birthday party, then you have to come to hers, too. But, um," he lowers his voice, "obviously you don't have to."

He doesn't like that Harry doesn't feel comfortable asking him for things anymore, but he tries not to let it bother him. "Yeah, I'll be at hers, too. If she wants."

"Cool," Harry says, sounding relieved. "Yeah, um. Cool. I'll pick you up, alright?"

"Okay. Sounds good."

"Cool," Harry repeats, and then he says goodbye. As soon as Harry disconnects the call, Louis goes to his work group chat and asks somebody to cover his shift for the first of February.

-

Harry's a bit sad on his birthday.

He does his best not to mope, but Louis and Niall can both tell that he's not actually feeling all that up to this party, and Louis can't blame him. Niall seems like a nice bloke, and him throwing a party that could double as Harry's birthday party would be nice, if it actually felt like anyone in the house cared about Harry at all. Most of them don't even know him. And Harry's not mad at him at all, and he doesn't feel put-out, or something. He's just sad, and that's okay. 

Harry's been practically clinging to him all night, which Louis isn't bothered by and kind of appreciates. He doesn't know anyone here, either, and Harry's one of his closest friends, so he likes him being nearby. And he likes sitting down and talking to Harry in person again; it feels like it's been forever, them having a normal conversation like this.

About two hours into the party, Harry has to step outside for a few minutes to talk Missy into listening to their grandparents. When he returns, he sits back down next to Louis on the couch and sighs quietly. 

"She's mad that she couldn't come," Harry says. 

Louis shrugs. "She'll get over it. It's not like this is a place for a kid, anyway." He raises the beer in his hand as a reminder that most people here are drunk already, and Harry nods. 

"Yeah, I know. But she misses me. She hasn't seen me since this morning, and she's not used to that." Their grandma had picked Missy up from school to take her home since Harry needed someone to watch her tonight. "And I miss her like mad, too, and that's, like, crazy, because I used to go months without seeing her."

Louis gives him a sympathetic smile. "You'll see her soon enough."

"Yeah, I know." He lets out a nervous sound before saying, "Feels like I'd be having more fun doing something stupid with you, Missy, and my grandparents at home, is all. I know Niall was trying to get me to make friends, and I probably should, but."

"Then let's go," Louis says. 

Harry furrows his eyebrows. "What?"

"It's not like anyone is going to miss us," Louis reasons, "and it's your birthday, so we should do what you want."

"That's mean to Niall, though," Harry mumbles, and it looks like he's saying it because he feels like he has to rather than actually believing it. 

"Niall was doing this so you'd be happy," Louis says, shaking his head. "If you'd be happier somewhere else, he won't care."

Harry must agree, because he nods and gets up to find Niall to make sure it's alright. Niall agrees easily, and Louis and Harry make their way through the groups of strangers to Harry's car. Harry's mostly quiet on the way over to his grandparents house, and his hand taps on the steering wheel too many times. Either he's that anxious about seeing Missy, or he's thinking about something else. Louis doesn't ask. 

It's a bit awkward, being in Harry's grandparents' house after only briefly seeing them at the funeral over a year ago, but it's okay, because Harry seems much more content here. He and Missy are attached at the hip for pretty much the entire night, and as Harry helps Missy cut the cake that the two of them made after their grandma found it in the cupboard, Louis watches them fondly and thinks,  _ I knew he could do this. _

Despite Harry being noticeably happier here, he still is a bit off. Quiet, mostly. The five of them sit around the table to play Go Fish per Missy's request, and Harry's playing and smiling when he's supposed to, but he's clearly bummed about something. Harry's grandmother points it out none too gently, asking him why he's sulking on his birthday, and Harry gives her a tight smile. 

"It's always harder on the holidays," Harry says. He shakes his head. "I'm fine."

His grandmother frowns and says, "Well, she wouldn't you to be sad, dear."

Harry and Louis exchange a quiet glance. A while ago, Harry told him that's what people who don't know what it's like say. He said that he's pretty sure Gemma wouldn't mind him being sad, because she would realize that's not practical. 

"Louis, it's your turn," Missy says, kicking at his chair underneath the table. Louis gives her a mock offended look that she giggles at and takes his turn, and when he glances at Harry again, he's smiling gently at him. 

-

Harry's not sad when it's time for Missy's birthday party, which is three weeks later. 

Only Niall and Louis come over to Harry's flat to celebrate with the two of them, but Missy doesn't seem to care. Harry's a bit bummed that Missy didn't want to invite anyone from school over ("Is she embarrassed of her home? Is she doing okay at school? What if they're picking on her or something?"), although he seems content with how carefree Missy seems.

She does mention once that she wishes their grandparents could have come, which makes Harry roll his eyes and scoff softly. When Louis gives him a questioning glance, Harry leans into his side and says, "They're at a casino in Liverpool. I asked if they could reschedule, and they gave me some shit about expecting too much from them."

Louis rolls his eyes and reaches over to squeeze Harry's shoulder, which makes Harry bite his lip and look away. He's being weird about those sort of things, intimate things. Since Harry's birthday, they've been seeing each other in person more. He always seems assertive and sure when he touches Louis, but when Louis touches him, he's bashful. It's never in a bad way, so Louis doesn't press it. Harry already knows that he has the next move. 

When it's time to sing happy birthday to Missy, Missy sings to herself along with the rest of them. She demands to be the one to cut the cut, which Harry is clearly nervous about and refuses to let go of her hand as she uses the knife so he can help guide her movements. She isn't bothered because, in the end, cake gets on her plate and she is satisfied with that result. 

They all eat cake at the kitchen table, and nobody can really get a word in because Missy is chatting excitedly about  _ everything. _ It's her birthday, and she's also only seven, so it's allowed. It's more fun trying to have silent conversations with Harry and Niall using just their eyes and faces, anyway. 

At one point, Missy tells a story about Gemma briefly, and her mood doesn't change in the slightest, but Harry looks like he's been slapped the second her name comes from Missy's mouth. He smooths it out quickly and listens to her contently. He probably doesn't want to discourage her from talking about their sister, but it's hard, too. 

The night ends fairly early since Harry doesn't let up on Missy's bedtime, even if it's her birthday. Like every time Louis comes over, he doesn't know if he's going to spend the night or not, and he always has to feel out Harry's mood. Tonight, he gathers from Harry's mood that he doesn't want Louis to stay the night, so about ten minutes after Niall leaves, Louis says he's going to get going soon, too. 

Harry looks apologetic, and Louis shakes his head. 

"It's fine, H," Louis says, shaking his head, as he puts his shoes on. "I don't mind either way, you know that."

Harry still looks disappointed in himself, and really, Louis wishes he'd understand that Louis completely gets why Harry needs to take his time with this. "I have counselling in the morning before work, and I just want some alone time in the morning, that's all, I swear." 

Louis lets out a small laugh. "Harry, seriously, it's okay. You don't have to explain yourself to me."

"Okay, but still."

They hug briefly on the way out, and it's only a little awkward. 

-

If Louis thinks about it for too long, the whole thing becomes a bit mind boggling to him: he randomly connected with two strangers at his usually mundane job, and he kind of squished himself into those people's lives until he fit, and now they're some of the most important people in his life. Aside from his coworkers, Missy and Harry are the ones he sees most, even above his mum, which is kind of odd, considering they've only known each other for close to a year and a half now, and a majority of that time was spent with Harry and Missy painfully grieving. It doesn't make sense, and it probably should work out, but it does. 

It's in May that Harry officially asks him out on another date. It's to the pub again, but they don't get blindingly drunk this time, and it's because Harry has to pick Missy up from Niall's tonight. This time around, Harry doesn't seem as nervous, and they only make out a little in Harry's car. Altogether, this date is objectively less interesting than the first, but as Louis sits in the passenger's seat, listening to Missy's happy chattering about the movie Niall took her to see while watching Harry's fond, almost eager expression, makes Louis feel more settled. 

When they get to Harry's flat, Harry carries Missy on his back to the door because she says she's too tired to walk, yet when they get inside, she's back to talking away and demands that they play again and pouts excessively when Harry says she needs to go to bed. 

"It's Saturday," she argues with a practiced frown, and Harry immediately gives in. As he grabs a game off the shelf, he mumbles, "Well, it  _ is _ Saturday," to himself. He apologizes quietly to Louis, which Louis immediately waves off. He doesn't mind entertaining Missy. 

They play Candy Land for about twenty-five minutes before Missy allows herself to be pestered into going to bed by Harry. She's clearly tired, and she seems to want to go to bed, but she does get whiny about not finishing their game. 

"We'll leave it here so we can finish tomorrow," Harry promises, kissing the top of her head. "Just make sure you take Evie to bed with you so she can't knock over any of the pieces."

Missy nods before asking, "Is Louis staying the night? Because we can't finish if he's not here."

Harry nods. "Yeah, he is. And neither of us work tomorrow, so we have time to play, okay?" Harry doesn't look at Louis until Missy is out of the room, and when he does, he shrugs once. "Sorry for volunteering you to play Candy Land all day. Hope you don't mind."

"I don't," Louis promises, smiling at him gently. Looking at Harry now, he doesn't look as tired as he usually does, and he hasn't the last few times Louis' been over. He still looks like he could go for a nap at all times, but it's in less of a deep exhaustion type of way. Maybe Louis' just overthinking. 

They end up watching a movie before bed, and Harry lays with his head resting on Louis' hip. About halfway through the movie, Harry falls asleep there, with his hand lightly gripping Louis' thigh. Louis finishes watching the movie by himself before he wakes Harry, who looks confused and sleepy. He doesn't protest about leaving the warm couch to get ready for bed, and Louis borrows a toothbrush. Harry looks satisfied about that.

When Harry twists open the doorknob to his room, Louis doesn't immediately realize that the room's any different. In the dark, he can see that the dressers are all in the same place, and so is the lamp, and so is the bed. It's only when Harry flicks on the light that Louis realizes that all of Gemma's stuff is gone. 

Not gone, it's still there, Louis finds, pooling out from boxes stacked in the closet. It's too hard, thinking about how emotionally taxing it probably was for Harry to do that, so Louis turns his focus on finding every new trace of Harry in the room. There are new posters hanging up, and there's his deodorant and cologne on the dresser, and there's a few of his sweaters sprawled out on the floor. There is still the wooden 'G' hanging above the bed, but next to it, there is a messily colored 'H' drawn on white paper taped to the wall. The art clearly was done by Missy. And the plush elephant is still sitting on the bedside table, and Louis knows that's Harry's way of keeping her with him. 

"Couldn't keep sitting in the middle of all her things," Harry mumbles, sounding almost ashamed. "With it all boxed up, I feel like I can think clearer. I don't know. Makes me feel less guilty, I guess."

Louis nods. He can't imagine how being in her room when it was still so clearly  _ hers  _ felt. "That's understandable. I'm glad you did that for yourself. Must've been hard, though."

Harry shrugs as he shuts the light back off and says that it was worth it. He heads for the bed, and Louis follows, getting in on his usual side of the bed. As he presses his face against Harry's pillow that smells like him, he wonders when he'll get the chance to have Harry to test out his side of _ Louis'  _ bed. 

-

He does get the chance, eventually. 

It doesn't take too long, because Louis was right in the idea that that date was another test run for Harry to see if he could handle dating right now. Harry figures out that he can, and Louis gets to be invited to go with Harry and Niall to Missy's class celebration for finishing her first year of schooling. It's only a bit weird, since Missy's the only person there with three people behind her and only one of them is related to her, and that relation isn't parental. She doesn't care though, doesn't even seem to realize anything is different about that. That'll probably change in a few years, but for now, she thinks it's fine.

As Harry and Louis grow even closer, completely intertwining with one another, Louis starts to understand how much Harry trusts him. He says he's reliable, and that is something that's important to him. Louis realizes that he should take the moments he gets with Missy and hold them close to his heart, because they're all special. Harry has let Louis have a friendship with Missy since day one, didn't really have a say in it, it feels like, so Louis sometimes forgets how protective Harry is of her. And when he sees how deeply fearful he is for Missy and how defensive he is over her, Louis is reminded just how deep Harry's trust in him goes. 

If Louis thinks on it too hard, it's overwhelming, especially as their relationship lengthens in time. Louis has basically officially declared that he'll help Harry raise Missy with him and Niall and their grandparents. If things go well between Harry and Louis, and Louis genuinely thinks they will continue to, then years from now, Missy might think of him as a father figure. Since she was five, he was in her life. That's early enough for her to think of him that way, right? And that's incredibly daunting. He wouldn't want it any other way, it's just -- a lot of pressure, sometimes. 

Maybe that's why Harry waits so long to propose the idea of them moving in together. Since he's the one with the kid, Harry mostly calls the shots with things that impact all of their lives. It takes a full year and eight months for Harry to bring it up to him, just to see how he felt about it, and then another month for him to act on it. 

Because neither Harry or Louis want to force Missy to deal with a move on top of Louis permanently having a daily place in her life, they decide it'd be best for Louis to move in with them. Harry says that, in a handful of years, they should probably start looking at houses. Louis offhandedly mentions he could afford a house, and that, if Harry wanted, they can start having that conversation a lot sooner, and Harry instantly puts a stop to that. 

"I can't afford a house right now," he says, "and I wouldn't want to be left out of a big step like that. And I seriously want to start thinking about going back to university, and I know me making any big financial investments like that would make me want to do it even less."

So Louis backs off of the idea and doesn't bring it up again. 

Harry does eventually go back to university, a little over a year later. He goes down to doing only part time at Tesco's, and he feels mostly okay about that because he's been very cautious of spending money as of late. Harry's paranoid about how going back to school will affect Missy, but they find fairly quickly that Missy doesn't care. If anything, she likes Harry doing school at the same time that she is. Whenever he's studying, she'll come to the table and set her school work down next to his and work quietly beside him. 

Sometimes, Louis feels like he doesn't fit in with them, which is probably embarrassing and stupid. It's just, Missy and Harry have faced traumas that Louis thankfully hasn't had to understand yet. Harry's had to learn what it's like to be completely powerless. Louis' gone through some hardships in life, sure, but nothing compared to what they have. So, in the rare times that Missy has a meltdown about Gemma or their mum, and Harry has to drop everything to comfort her in a way that Louis will never know how to, Louis feels like a fraud. How is it that he's the one that Harry says keeps him on his feet when he's not nearly as strong as Harry is? It seems wrong, like Louis' strength that Harry sees is a lie. And he never says any of that to Harry, because he knows that it's a stupid thing to feel. 

Harry, Louis and Missy fit together, and it doesn't have to be more complicated than that. 

**Author's Note:**

> i started writing this fic the night after i came home from the hospital where my mom had surgery for uterine cancer. i hope you all enjoyed it :)


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